Quantum Entanglement
by CaspianAlexander
Summary: Voldemort won. The last of the war criminals Hermione Granger is about to be publicly executed. Except - it doesn't quite work out that way. What would you do if you were thrown back twenty years in time? With nothing to lose, Hermione creates a ruthless deception. She enters Slytherin as pureblood Hermione Black - with one thing on her mind: Revenge. \\/ Unapologetic trope-abuse
1. Turning Through the Veil

Just a little idea that wouldn't leave me alone. Though I must be mad to add something else to my plate, I thought I'd have a go and see how it turned out. Thus; Quantum Entanglement.

 **Chapter One: Turning Through the Veil**

\\\/

"Your turn today Granger," Lucius Malfoy said, unlocking the cell door.

"Really? I thought it might have been somebody else."

In the beginning, the Ministry dungeons had been crammed. But numbers had been dwindling lately. Actually, Hermione was the last one left. Quite inconvenient the way it had all worked out.

Rumour had it that they were being taken up for some kind of public execution - proof that Lord Voldemort had nothing to fear anymore. Maybe a gallows outside the ministry; perhaps gawking people, and children shrieking with horror and glee.

Hermione's only problem had been deciding what to do about it: Live, or die. Living didn't hold much appeal. Escape was theoretically possible. But it had been a long war, and death was tempting.

She had her wand, concealed the way muggle whores had done it for centuries. Around her neck, the choking chain of her invisible time turner. Although it was impossible to go back more than twenty four hours, she could still make an escape attempt. If it failed, go back and try over and over again until it worked. Harry would have done that, but Harry was different. Hermione was exhausted. It had been a long war.

"Up you get," Malfoy said, leaning down and tapping the magic shackles with his wand. They fell away, and Hermione rubbed her wrists.

"In case I never get the chance to say it again, I just wanted to let you know I always thought your hair was a bit too feminine," she said.

Malfoy yanked Hermione to her feet. Her robes were so tattered that she felt exposed, but she pushed the thought away. It was all in the mind. If she couldn't have her life, she would at least keep her dignity.

"You've got an awful lot of words for a dead witch," Malfoy said, dragging her out of the cell.

They were in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, and Hermione was surprised when she realised they were heading for the Department of Mysteries. The image of the gallows outside the Ministry had grown too strong in her mind to shake it off immediately.

"How do you do it...is it the death veil?"

"Every last one of you. No need to see the filthy blood."

The room was packed with onlookers. Many were Death Eaters Hermione recognised, but there were vast swathes of faces she didn't. And children too, scattered here and there, undoubtedly present to learn what happened when you disobeyed.

"How very medieval."

Malfoy shoved Hermione in the back, and she stumbled. The noise level went up as they entered the room. People were shouting, and something sharp smacked into the back of her head.

"Ow!"

They were throwing things at her. Stoning the witch.

"Settle down."

The voice was gentle and humorous, but silence fell instantly.

Lord Voldemort leaned forward on the granite throne, studying the latest prisoner. Hermione suspected he had made this room his power base because he enjoyed the easy convenience of the Veil. Should he wish to remove someone from their mortal coil, there were less bodies.

Since assigning himself Minister of Magic, Lord Voldemort had taken to wearing glamour's that disguised his true nature. Like any politician, he recognised the need for a pleasant face to present to the public. He resembled a distinguished gentlemen of around fifty, with thick dark hair, going slightly grey at the temples. Hermione glanced at him once, and looked away. No need to remind herself again.

Distantly, Hermione heard Malfoy announcing her crimes to the public. It was taking a while. There seemed to be a great deal of them. Should she live or die? Hermione hadn't decided yet.

"Therefore we announce that for the crimes committed, the only possible sentence is death!"

Her arm was being grabbed again, and they were dragging her towards the veil. But she still hadn't made up her mind. The slavering crowed roared approval, anticipating the kill.

"Ready to see the chosen one again?" Malfoy said.

A non-existent breeze made the veil flutter; black silky cloth draped below a stone archway.

Hermione put her hand to the hollow of her throat where the time turner nestled. No-one else could see it, not since fourth year when she had used a permanent concealment charm on it. Her heartbeat pulsed against her fingers.

Harry would have wanted her to live. Malfoy wanted her to die.

Hermione turned the hourglass. As she did so, she felt an almighty shove in the small of her back. The veil was rushing towards her...and the time turner was spinning...people were screaming and cheering...and the black curtain was upon her...

Nothing.

\\\/

Hermione opened her eyes to total darkness, and wondered if this was death. If it was, it wasn't so bad. Very peaceful actually. She closed her eyes, which made no difference, and decided to rest for a while. Being dead was tiring.

"Up. Get up girl!"

Hermione awoke to find herself being poked by a dirty foot. There was a burning sensation around her throat, but she pushed the pain to the back of her mind.

"What...?"

"Causing mayhem everywhere, wandering the corridors at night, filthy little beasts! But I don't think I recognise you...?"

Hermione's head felt oddly spongy. She blinked a few times, and her vision became clearer. Then she looked up into a looming face and recoiled. It was a face that she'd seen hundreds of times before, and it was grimy and grizzled. Of course, it didn't help that he was supposed to be dead.

"What the fuck!"

"Be quiet!" Argus Filch growled.

"Oh dear fucking god I've died and gone to Hell. An eternity with Filch, fuck me…"

Hermione buried her head in her hands, and wondered if she should have put more effort into being a good person.

"Shut yer cakehole before you wake the whole castle! Always hated hysterical women…"

"Thank god Riddle can't die, I don't want to end up with him too..."

"Always bleedin' sobbing in the corridors, clogging up the toilets with tissues…fer Merlin's sake girl, get up!"

A few words filtered in. Hermione hadn't been spoken to with so much energy since before her incarceration, and it was almost invigorating. She scrambled to her feet, her back pressed against a wall that certainly felt solid. As Hermione's vision adjusted, the afterlife began to look rather like the inside of a cleaning closet.

"Is this Hell?"

Argus Filch peered at Hermione with deep suspicion.

"Near enough. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

"But you're...well, dead."

Hermione's mind was racing at a million miles an hour. Now she came to think of it, Filch actually looked younger. Less frown lines, more hair.

"I bleedin' well am not."

Filch scowled at Hermione. Then he grabbed her by the arm. He seemed to have decided she was mad.

"We're going to the headmaster."

Outside the cleaning closet it certainly looked like Hogwarts. Which of course wasn't possible. Hogwarts didn't exist anymore.

As they walked through the school, Hermione's mind began to slow to its normal pace, and she looked around properly. Filch looked very solid. Hogwarts looked real too, down to the last gleaming suit of armour. It was dark, and seemed to be very early in the morning.

Hermione had been pushing aside a burning sensation around her neck since she awoke, and doing it quite well. Ignoring pain had been a necessary skill in the Ministry dungeons, but this was getting worse.

She raised a hand to her throat, and immediately snatched back her fingers. The little golden time turner was blazing hot; sizzling her flesh like steak on an open grill.

"Mr Filch?"

"How do you know my name?"

"Lucky guess. I know it's an...odd question, but what's the date?"

"Third of October," Filch grunted.

"What year?"

"Nineteen seventy-six," he said, giving her a look that suggested she was madder than he'd thought.

"Oh God."

Hermione's head began to spin. The time turner couldn't possibly go back more than twenty four hours - she had been told never to try. The pain around her neck was getting harder to ignore, and she felt as though she was underwater, drowning.

"You alright there girl?" Filch said.

"I…"

The pain was worse. Hermione's vision was going blurry, and she reached a hand out to try and grab something, anything...

\\\/

When Hermione awoke the second time, her mind was clearer.

The unyielding surface beneath her felt more like a floor than a bed, and there were voices nearby. It wasn't the first time she had woken from unconsciousness in uncertain territory. Hermione ignored the voices, and focussed on the matter at hand.

Through cataclysmic disaster or cosmic joke, something had gone very wrong with her execution. If Filch wasn't insane, or lying, there was a chance she had just monumentally buggered an attempt to go back in time.

If Filch wasn't shit at dates, which was also quite an assumption, she had gone back a long way. More than two decades.

"And she was just lyin' there, Professor, among the mops!"

"Yes, thank you Argus. I believe I can handle the matter from here."

Hermione felt faint. If she wasn't very much mistaken, that was the voice of Professor Dumbledore.

"Alright sir."

A door closed somewhere, and Hermione sensed that Filch had left.

"Good morning."

Hermione's eyes snapped open. Professor Dumbledore was sitting at his desk looking exactly the same as before, his little half-moon spectacles still perched on the end of his nose, as he regarded her over them. She staggered to her feet and stared at him.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir."

"I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. You seem to know my name, but I do not know yours."

"Hermione."

Professor Dumbledore inclined his silvery head. Lying on the desk before him was Hermione's time turner, glinting gold in the lamplight.

"I've just been examining this remarkable time turner of yours. Tell me, where have you come from?"

Hermione wondered whether she ought to answer, but old habits ran deep.

"Nineteen ninety-nine."

"Amazing," Professor Dumbledore breathed. "Amazing."

Hermione looked at Dumbledore askance. A strange woman had just appeared in his school, and all he could say was 'amazing.'

"May I ask your full name?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, and then hesitated.

"I'm not sure if I should tell you. Wouldn't the best thing be for me to leave, without making changes?"

"I would entirely agree with you, if only that were at all possible."

"What do you mean?"

"I do not believe there is any way we can return you to your time," Professor Dumbledore said after a long moment, looking at Hermione with such pity that she felt a lump rise in her throat.

"We could, of course, petition the ministry for their assistance. But considering the current state of political affairs...should the news of your, ah, condition get out, I suspect you may become a target."

"For my knowledge of the future."

Hermione stared at the time turner on the wooden desk. So many adventures they had been on together.

"Exactly Miss Black. Which is why I believe it may be safer to merely integrate you back into the student population."

" _What_?"

Hermione stared at Dumbledore, taken aback. She felt as though she had not merely gone back in time, but stepped into a parallel universe. During the Great Siege, she had spun the time turner three times. Scavenged three lives. Each time, she had craved further un-doing; to prevent the ravages of war, instead of merely picking through the wreckage.

"You mean I can stay here? Start...start my life over?"

"I know this must seem very hard. I am more sorry than I can say, Hermione."

Outside the arched window, the first golden rays of the dawn broke over the indigo horizon.

"Become...a student, here, in nineteen seventy-six?"

"I believe it is the only way your knowledge of the future can be kept safe. You were a Hogwarts student, weren't you?"

Opportunity didn't knock very often. In fact true opportunity, real ground-breaking change-the-world opportunity, probably never knocked at all for most people. Hermione wasn't most people, but she wasn't going to throw a chance like this away. She made a split second decision.

"Yes, I was."

And death itself would start working backward. Harry and Ron would live again.

Four years of guerrilla warfare had taught Hermione that the most savage kill was the dagger in the back from the person supposed to be watching it. If she was here again, this time she would do it from the inside.

"Professor, my name is Hermione Black."

Professor Dumbledore's eyebrows raised, but he gave no other sign that she had surprised him.

"An odd question, Miss Black, but could you share the name of your father with me?"

Hermione allowed a brief spasm of confusion to pass across her face. "I don't remember. Why can't I remember?"

"Do not trouble yourself Miss Black," Professor Dumbledore said soothingly. "You have suffered an injury to the head - it is expected that your memories may be affected. Perhaps it is for the best."

Hermione prodded gingerly. The back of her head was sticky with blood.

Professor Dumbledore looked out the window, where the sun was rising. He seemed to be thinking very deeply about something. At last, he picked up the little golden time turner from his desk, and turned it over in his hands without spinning the hourglass.

"I do not want to hear anything about your time. Meddling with the past is dangerous," he said regretfully.

"Yes," Hermione said.

The less Professor Dumbledore knew, the better. Easiest to let him think she had been a normal student.

"I understand though, that the days ahead will be hard while you grieve. Please be assured that my office door is always open to you, should you wish for an understanding ear."

Hermione smiled sadly at Professor Dumbledore.

"You once said 'Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.'"

For a moment the Headmaster looked startled, and then he relaxed into a smile.

"I am glad to hear that I still say that in twenty years time Miss Black. Now, I know this is painful ground for you, but in order for you to have a life in our world, we must cover some details."

"Of course, sir."

"Firstly, what house were you sorted into at Hogwarts?"

"Slytherin," Hermione lied, meeting the headmaster's gaze calmly.

"And what year were you in when you, shall we say, arrived?"

"Sixth year sir."

That should sandwich her in tightly between the current and future Death Eaters.

"I see. In that case, if you have no objection, I would prefer to move you into the Slytherin dormitory tonight, and begin classes tomorrow. The Black family is a large one, and a distant cousin appearing suddenly will be strange, but not impossible. Do you have any preference to your new history?"

"Obviously I have to be an orphan," Hermione said slowly, as though hearing the words for the first time. "I sound British, so I can't have transferred from overseas. Do many purebloods home-school their children?"

"It's not unheard of, although unusual. That you're female, forgive me, makes it more likely."

"Wife material," Hermione said wryly. "No need to waste an education."

Professor Dumbledore sighed, and began scribbling out notes on parchment.

Outside, the forbidden forest sprawled, dark and foreboding by the lake. As the sun cast ripples across the water, Hermione saw several silhouettes fly over the trees. Thestrals, frolicking in the morning sunshine. She smiled.

This time, the war was already won. Voldemort was already dead. It was just that nobody knew it yet.

"I think I'd like to get settled in, if I can," Hermione said after a moment. Professor Dumbledore looked up from the notes he was writing, and nodded.

"Of course my dear. I will have Professor Slughorn - our head of Slytherin - show you to your dormitory, and your new companions. I'm sure I do not have to warn you to keep all, and any future knowledge to yourself. If anyone ever discovered the truth..."

"I know sir. Never."

"Good."

"Also sir - I have no supplies. And no money."

Professor Dumbledore frowned. He clapped his hands sharply. A house elf appeared, dressed in a clean pillowcase. It bowed deferentially to Professor Dumbledore.

"What can I do for the great master?"

"Miss Black needs some school supplies for a sixth year taking...?"

"Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Defence Against The Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Potions and Charms," Hermione said. She had, in fact, studied more subjects than that - but since her free time was to be spent winning a war, there was really no point in filling up her schedule.

Professor Dumbledore blinked.

"Very well then. And also a full wardrobe for a female student please, self-sizing. Do you have any preference for non-uniform clothing, Miss Black?"

"No muggle clothes," Hermione said firmly. "Just what the other pureblood Slytherin girls wear. "

"Yes miss."

The house elf vanished. Professor Dumbledore clapped his hands together.

"Excellent. I believe that is everything covered for the moment."

Professor Slughorn arrived at the office a few minutes later. He was as large as he had been in Hermione's time, and his thick thatch of hair had clearly just begun to thin, leaving a bald patch on the top of his head.

"Did I hear you correctly Albus? A new student?"

"This is Miss Hermione Black," Professor Dumbledore introduced, his tone casual, as though sixth year students appeared in his office every day.

"Black? A relation of Regulus's, perhaps?"

The large man's greedy little eyes lit up at the name.

"I don't know sir. My parents weren't in touch with the rest of our family. But we were purebloods, so its a possibility," Hermione invented.

"Wonderful!"

Professor Slughorn looked as though he were about to start rubbing his pudgy hands together with glee, but restrained himself under Professor Dumbledore's disapproving eye.

"Err, anyway Miss Black. Shall we get you settled in?"

"Thank you, I'd like that."

Prisoner Hermione Granger, war criminal and formerly third-in-command to Harry Potter, stepped out of Professor Dumbledore's office and prepared to shed her skin.

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed. Updates may be sporadic, as I'm working on The Butterfly Effect for the most part right now. But shouldn't be too long.**

 **\- Cas**


	2. In Memoriam

**I've tried to avoid introducing OC's in this chapter, so all the characters should have been theoretically at Hogwarts during this time period. I'm going by the ages JKR set out for us, and improvising with the ones she didn't confirm.**

\\\/

Hermione was lucky Professor Dumbledore hadn't asked her to make her own way to the Slytherin dormitories. It would have revealed the unfortunate fact that she had absolutely no idea where they were. She followed Professor Slughorn down a corridor and several staircases, all the way into the dungeons. Professor Slughorn seemed inclined to conversation, in spite of the early hour, and Hermione tried to keep her story in order, sensing that it would see many repetitions before people tired of asking her where she had come from.

"You have no idea whether you're related to the Black family that reside in London?" Professor Slughorn asked for the third time, as they walked along a particularly dark and dank corridor. The sound of dripping water echoed unpleasantly through the dungeons.

"Non Professor. Like I said, I was homeschooled," Hermione said calmly, although she was far from calm.

"Shame," Slughorn tutted. "These pureblood families get so large they can't keep track of everyone these days. Perhaps Regulus might know."

"I don't recognise the name," Hermione lied. An image of a locket swam to the forefront of Hermione's mind. _I have discovered the real horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can..._

Regulus hadn't been the enemy in the end. It was just a shame he died before anyone realised. Maybe this time another life could be saved. Then again, maybe not. Too much messing with fate would change it beyond recognition, rendering any future knowledge null and void.

"Never mind," Professor Slughorn said comfortingly, blissfully unaware of the thoughts running through Hermione's mind. "Professor Dumbledore said your parents died recently?"

"Yes." Hermione said quietly. It wasn't a lie. Frances and Christopher Granger had died only weeks before Hermione's accident with time. Lucius Malfoy had taken great pleasure in displaying their bodies for Hermione to see. He had gone to special effort to bring them back for her, Lucius had told her. There had been something horrible about his fixation with her.

"I know you must be missing them greatly," Slughorn said gently, as they rounded another narrow corner. "But Slytherin house will be your family now. I should warn you, you have not arrived at an easy time to be a Slytherin. Are you aware of our political climate in Britain at this moment?"

"Somewhat," Hermione said dryly, without further elaboration.

"Then it will not surprise you to hear that Slytherin house is under a great deal of suspicion. My students report harassment from the other three houses, and other teachers turning a blind eye. I tell you this not to frighten you, but to warn you."

Hermione looked at Professor Slughorn in surprise, and dredged up what she could from her memory of the man. He had never been a supporter of Lord Voldemort, but had played a significant part in his uprising, albeit unintentionally. Hermione had never had much time for the man the first time around, and wasn't sure she liked him much better the second.

"There is only so much I can do about it," Slughorn said, misreading Hermione's expression. "Much as it pains me to admit, some members of my house ..well, they perhaps do not act as kindly as they should to certain factions within our school."

"Muggleborns," Hermione said softly.

"Yes," Slughorn admitted uncomfortably. "But you are pureblood, so they won't bother you. More importantly, do not let it trouble you. Within Slytherin, you will find we are fiercely protective of our house members. Besieged on all sides, Slytherins stick together. Should you find yourself in difficulty, no Slytherin would begrudge you help, regardless of your political leanings, whatever they might be."

"Thank you," Hermione said, surprised again. The inner workings of Slytherin house had never been something she had considered much before.

"You're very welcome Miss Black. Ah, here we are."

They rounded a corner and arrived at a narrow stretch of bare, dripping stone wall. Hermione looked at it expectantly. There was no portrait like Gryffindor, or question like Ravenclaw.

"Elementis," Professor Slughorn said to the wall. Hermione stared as the wall simply melted away, leaving a narrow tunnel.

"I will leave you here," Professor Slughorn said quietly. "But I will contact a Slytherin prefect in the morning, who will approach you and show you what you need to know. The common room is just through that tunnel. The door to the left leads to the Slytherin girls dormitories, and the sixth year is on the first landing."

"Left door, first landing, prefect will find me," Hermione repeated.

"Perfect. I believe Professor Dumbledore asked the house elves to organise a bed and equipment for you, which should already be there. I will see you at breakfast Miss Black."

"Goodnight Professor," Hermione said, stepping into the tunnel.

She walked for a few moments along a damp passage, and then exited into the Slytherin common room. It was a dungeon-like room with greenish lamps and chairs. The dungeon appeared to extend partway under the lake, which was giving the light in the room a green tinge. The common room had lots of low backed black and dark green button-tufted, leather sofas; skulls; and dark wood cupboards. It had quite a grand atmosphere, but also quite a cold one.

Hermione shivered, pulling her robes around herself. In her own timeline, she had never been inside the Slytherin common room. Ron and Harry had, during their second year. But she had been stuck as a cat in the hospital wing, to her utter humiliation.

"Left door first floor," she muttered, heading towards a dark doorway beside the unlit fireplace. It was easy enough to follow the stairs up to the first landing, whereupon Hermione stepped through into a small room. It was very different from the Gryffindor common room. Rather than circular, the room was a long rectangle, with four poster beds on either side. There were five beds leading away from her. Four of them had the curtains drawn, and soft breathing could be heard coming from them. The fifth was empty, with the curtains drawn back, and a freshly made bed. It had to be hers, and Hermione marvelled at how fast the house elves worked.

Hermione was amused by the Slytherin green bedsheets, and checked the cupboard beside the bed. There was a selection of robes that it was too hard to see in the dark. The drawers beneath contained underwear, and a green lacy thing that Hermione assumed was Slytherin nightwear. Raising her eyebrows, Hermione realised asking the house elf for _everything a pureblood Slytherin girl would wear_ might have been a little too far. Nonetheless, Hermione donned the skimpy nightgown.

Crawling between the sheets, Hermione rested her head on the pillow. She was exhausted, but sleep wouldn't come. When it finally did, it was fraught with nightmares, images of her dead parents, dead Harry, dead Ron, and always, always, the high pitched laughter of Lord Voldemort.

\\\/

When morning dawned in an obscenely short amount of time, Hermione awoke with a jerk. She lay there, her heart pounding, unable to remember where she was or why she was there. Then it all came flooding back. The veil. The time turner. Dumbledore. Slughorn. And Hermione Black.

It all seemed too fantastical. Hermione opened her eyes, half expecting to find herself back in her cell, awaiting execution. But there was no mistaking the green sheets or bed hangings. She was definitely in the Slytherin dormitories, which meant she was definitely in 1976. It was too much for Hermione to process, so she pushed it to the back of her mind. It was a coping technique she had used to cope with the deaths of everyone she had ever loved. A way to stop herself going insane, and it served her admirably here.

"Who are you?"

The voice was female, and deeply suspicious. Hermione sat up in bed, and turned to see who was talking. The speaker was a tall, pale girl with dark curly hair. She was very pretty, but had a rather ugly look on her face.

"Hermione Black," Hermione said quietly, preparing herself for the ordeal to come. "New student. Arrived last night. And your name?"

"Black?" The girl interrupted. "Related to Regulus Black?"

Hermione sighed. She should have realised using the name would create questions she couldn't answer. "No idea, never met most of my family. And you are?"

"Arabel Selwyn," the girl said, giving Hermione a look that suggested she didn't entirely believe her. "Why would you arrive in the middle of the night?"

"Stop the inquisition Arabel," another female voice called. Hermione looked up to see a girl leaving the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, long wet red hair falling past her shoulders.

"You must be Hermione," the redhead said kindly. "I'm Lucinda. Slytherin Prefect. Professor Slughorn left me a message telling me you had arrived, and needed a bit of helping finding your way around."

"Please," Hermione said. Then, feeling slightly uncomfortable with being observed, she left the bed and headed for the bathroom the redheaded girl had just vacated.

Dressing as a Slytherin girl seemed considerably more of a task than dressing as a Gryffindor. For some reason all of her robes had hundreds of buttons on them, and they were far more form fitting than anything Hermione had worn in her old life. Hermione didn't know whether it was the different house or the different era. Far more irritating than the robes was the underwear. There was a great deal of it in her drawers, and virtually all of it was black. Some of it was green, and some was silver. All of it was lacy.

"Unbelievable," Hermione muttered, wrestling with a suspender belt. "Slytherin girls wore this every _day?"_

A quick glance at the girls Hermione was sharing a dormitory with was enough to show Hermione she was wearing the same as everyone else though. There were two other girls in her dormitory. One of them seemed to be called Evelyn, and the other was a short stubby blonde girl that Hermione hadn't gotten a good look at yet.

Feeling uncomfortable in the close fitting robes, Hermione waited. When the other girls were ready, Lucinda showed Hermione down to breakfast. But it wasn't like any breakfast Hermione had eaten at Hogwarts before.

The Great Hall was absolutely silent when Hermione walked in with the Slytherins. Any conversations that had been taking place outside the Hall immediately ceased. The staff table was full, and Hermione looked up and met the eyes of Professor Dumbledore, sitting in the throne-like chair at the centre of the table. He gave her a solemn nod.

At first Hermione thought the hall had fallen silent at her entry, and a dozen panicked thoughts ran through her mind. But then Hermione realised no eyes were looking at her. In fact every gaze was directed towards the far end of the ceiling. Hermione followed their gaze as she sat down with Lucinda, but didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Nobody was eating either. They were all just _staring._

The silence continued for several minutes, and was beginning to get unnerving. Suddenly hundreds of owls burst into the great hall, carrying letters, packages and newspapers. The noise of the wings beating filled the hall, but still nobody made a sound, even as their mail was dropped onto their laps. They were all still waiting for something, clearly. Hermione was just about to whisper something to Lucinda, when Professor Dumbledore stood up, a newspaper in his hand. Immediately all attention was focussed on him. It was obvious that this was what everyone had been waiting for.

Professor Dumbledore looked very serious as he stared around the great hall. The twinkle Hermione had come to expect to see in his eye was gone, and he frowned around the hall. At last, he raised the newspaper, and began to read.

"Eleanor and Darren Vance. Helen Abbot. Hortense and Horace Hibert. Edward Blackwell. Selma Prewett. And George, Susan, and young Bernard Montgomery. May their sacrifice never be forgotten."

The silence held for moment, during which the sound of muffled sobs echoed through the hall. Then Professor Dumbledore sat down, and placed the newspaper beside his plate. The spell was broken, and voices filled the hall. People reached for the mail they had ignored a moment ago, or grabbed breakfast and began to eat. Chattering filled the air. Across the hall though, Hermione saw a matronly looking woman leading a sobbing Hufflepuff from the hall.

"What was that?" Hermione asked Lucinda. It was unlike any Hogwarts breakfast Hermione had ever seen.

Lucinda looked upset. "It was the names of people who have died since yesterday in death eater attacks," she said shortly. "The Prophet prints them every morning, so we know if our family is still alive or not."

Hermione shivered. It was one thing to know the war had broken out twenty years ago. It was another thing to sit there and listen as the names of the dead were reeled off. Hermione had the sudden realisation that the world she had entered into was not the same as the one she had left behind. Lord Voldemort was attacking in the open at full strength, and many of the people beside her were preparing to join him.

Hermione looked up and down the table at the Slytherins, her new companions. And that was where the heart attacks really started. The short, stubby looking blonde girl Hermione had noticed in her dorm was sitting across from her. Hermione was stunned when she realised that she recognised her. Alecto Carrow smiled at Hermione before returning to her cornflakes, her pudgy sixteen year old face not holding a hint of her older self. If it hadn't been for the turned up nose and short stumpy body, Hermione might never have recognised her.

It was hard for Hermione to watch Alecto eating her breakfast, while knowing the plump girl would grow up to be responsible for the death of Professor Flitwick. But Hermione managed to keep herself under control. That was, under control until more shocks arrived.

No sooner had Hermione pulled a piece of toast towards her, than a smooth male voice behind her spoke. "Are you the new student Professor Slughorn mentioned this morning?"

Hermione turned around, and found herself face to face with Rabastan Lestrange. Instantly her body went cold, and her hand tightly gripped her wand, even though it was in her pocket. Hermione's heart was pounding and she knew she was pale. This was the man who had tortured Neville's parents. The man who had killed Colin and Dennis Creevey during the final battle. The man who had watched, laughing, as his sister Bellatrix tortured and killed Molly Weasley.

"Are you alright?" Rabastan asked, the concern in his voice genuine. Hermione worked hard to slow her racing heart, and focussed on Rabastan's face. He had to be only sixteen, with an earnest-looking olive skinned face, and short brown hair. This wasn't the monster that had killed so many people. Hermione had nothing to fear from this boy, yet. But, she reminded herself, although he might not know it, he had everything to fear from her.

"I'm fine, sorry." Hermione said quickly. "A lot of new faces, got a bit confused. Yes, I'm Hermione Black."

"I'm Rabastan," Rabastan said, smiling at Hermione. It made her uncomfortable. It was probably meant to be reassuring, but it reminded her of a snake right before it sank its teeth into its unwitting prey.

"Are you any relation to Regulus?" Rabastan continued, taking a seat beside her. Hermione edged away unobtrusively.

"She doesn't know," Lucinda interrupted, leaning forward. " I asked her this morning. Maybe Reg's would know. Hey, Regulus?" Lucinda called down the table. Hermione looked up curiously, and got her first glimpse of Sirius's brother, the man they had never met, but had heard so much about from Kreacher.

Regulus was smaller than Sirius, and not as handsome as his older brother had been. Older brother was, Hermione corrected herself, remembering Sirius must be somewhere around too. Regulus Arcturus Black was slender and pale, with the same floppy black hair as Sirius, but a face that was very different. He looked up at Lucinda's voice, and frowned.

"Yes?" Regulus said, sounding annoyed.

"New student. First name Hermione, last name Black. Any relation?"

Regulus looked more curious, and left his conversation to come over to them. "You're called Black?" He asked Hermione, not sounding as if he really believed her.

"Yes," Hermione said firmly. "Hermione Black."

"Never heard of you," Regulus sniffed, turning away.

"Never heard of you either," Hermione muttered, and Lucinda chuckled beside her.

"Never mind Regulus," she said fondly. "Family is a bit of a sore spot. Goodness knows, they've disowned enough members."

"Oh," Hermione said politely. She tried to take a bite of toast, but after the twin shocks of meeting Regulus and Rabastan, it tasted like cardboard on her tongue. Hermione had woken up prepared that she was going to be experiencing some shocks, but nothing could really prepare her for the terrifying bizarreness of being introduced to people who were long dead in her time. It felt wrong.

The rest of breakfast continued in much the same way. Most of the faces were entirely new, but every time Hermione saw someone she wasn't expecting, her stomach jolted uncomfortably.

Professor Slughorn approached Hermione and gave her a timetable for the week, and reading it, she saw she had Transfiguration with the Hufflepuffs first. As Hermione stood up to leave the hall, someone knocked past her in their hurry to leave. Hermione only caught a glimpse of a pale face and greasy hair, but it was enough to make her stop where she stood and stare after the boy who had just nearly knocked her over.

It wasn't that she hadn't realised he would have been here. But somehow, with so much to take in and so many new faces, she hadn't prepared herself for seeing him again. Then again, after watching him die, nothing could have prepared her for seeing Severus Snape alive and well.

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **\- Cas**


	3. Transfiguring Fate

**I loathe Alecto Carrow, and think she is a really foul character in the books and films. However we have a certain family connection - my Aunt is the actress who plays her in the films. When my son was born, and my Aunty sent me baby things, I always joked (to myself, this HP preoccupation of mine is a secret,) that I got baby gifts from a death eater!**

 **\\\/**

Hermione's first lesson in her new world was Transfiguration. It was fitting really, Hermione mused as the Slytherins headed en masse for the Transfiguration classroom. Everything in her life had been transformed.

"Are you alright Miss Black?" Hermione turned to see Rabastan Lestrange keeping pace with her. Now the first shock of seeing him had passed, she found it easier to let a mask slip effortlessly into place. She wondered where his brother and sister in law were, and presumed they must be too old for Hogwarts.

"Yes yes, fine," Hermione said, glancing at the students around them. That was another surprise about the new world - the way the Slytherins worked. Nobody from the house of serpents ever went anywhere alone. Not to the bathroom, not to the hall, not to classes. It was too dangerous, Lucinda had briefly told Hermione. Like Professor Slughorn had warned, the rest of the school was out to get the future deatheaters. Hermione didn't blame them.

"Good morning class," Professor McGonagall said crisply, as the students filed into the Transfiguration classroom. The Gryffindors headed for the desks to the right, and the Slytherins to the left. Hermione concentrated on keeping her head down, and avoided catching anyone's eye as she sat beside Alecto Carrow in the only empty space. When the class was settled, the lecture began.

"This morning we will be attempting the difficult task of transforming water into wine," Professor McGonagall said, waving her wand at the board. Instructions immediately began to appear in precise handwriting across the black surface.

"I do not expect you all to achieve our aims during this lesson. However as NEWT students, you must be aware that the standard of performance expected of you is much higher than anything you have been asked to accomplish in previous years. Should you not succeed this lesson, I expect all of you to practice in your own time, until you achieve the desired result."

"If we manage it today, can we keep the wine Professor?"

Hermione felt a shock when she heard the voice. She _knew_ that voice.

The class turned to the boy on the Gryffindor side of the room. He was leaning back with his chair on two legs, twirling a quill between his fingers and looking supremely unconcerned. Hermione received another sharp jolt when she saw him. _Sirius._ Young and handsome, he looked carefree and full of life. This was a bright sixteen year old with his whole life ahead of him. There was none of the haunted mark that twelve years of Azkaban would leave on his face. Hermione kicked herself for not realising who else would be in the school at this time, and thinking only of death eaters. Because if Sirius was here, that meant -

Harry's parents. When Hermione spotted James beside Sirius, she was hard put to stop herself gasping out loud. His resemblance to his son was so strong she wanted to cry, and she spent a few seconds forcing down her emotions before she allowed herself to look again. Hermione drank in his messy hair and dear face. How she missed Harry, oh how dearly she missed him.

Which meant the beautiful red haired girl at the front of the room had to be Lily. And - yes - there was Remus Lupin. Bittersweet joy welled up in Hermione's heart. Joy for the sheer aliveness of these people, and sorrow for the future they were facing. _Not if I can help it_ , Hermione silently reminded herself.

In her introspection Hermione had missed Professor McGonagall's undoubtedly acerbic response to Sirius, but the Gryffindor side of the class was laughing, and even the Professor wore a trace of a smile around her lips. Glancing at her peers, Hermione saw the Slytherins wearing identical scowls. She smiled briefly. It seemed that even in this world some things were still the same. Restoring order, Professor McGonagall reminded that class of the task they had been set.

Hermione's partner Alecto didn't seem very adept with her wand. When Professor McGonagall asked a Gryffindor boy Hermione didn't recognise to pass around goblets of water, Alecto flexed her fingers nervously, but made no attempt to pick up her wand, lying discarded on the table.

"Aren't you going?" Hermione couldn't help but ask. The girl next to her glanced up, and then looked away.

"You first," Alecto mumbled to the desk.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her robes and pulled out her wand. She smiled, surprised at how easily the sensation of being back in a lesson returned to her. Flicking her wand gently towards the glass, Hermione spoke the incantation. Instantly the contents became a deep crimson, and a pleasant, fruity aroma drifted towards them.

"Well done Miss Black." Professor McGonagall had already caught her attempt, and in spite of herself she sounded impressed. Hermione smiled as she looked up at her ex head of house. Professor McGonagall had less lines around her face, and her hair was less grey. But her sharp manner was just the same as it had always been, and Hermione felt her confidence ease over like a balm. Lessons were something she could _do._ After so many years of feeling helpless, there was wonder in feeling competent once more.

"How did you _do_ that?" Alecto whispered from beside Hermione, the longing in her voice obvious. Hermione hesitated. She had a choice. She could befriend Alecto, or she could not. Everything about the stubby little witch repulsed Hermione when she considered the foul woman the girl would become. But what better way to weed her out early than to have her believe Hermione was a friend?

"Here," Hermione said to Alecto, gently showing the other witch the way she was holding her wand wrong. "Like this."

As they left the classroom, Hermione caught the Gryffindors looking speculatively at her. When she saw James Potter frowning at her, Hermione felt her stomach twist. It felt like _Harry_ was glaring at her, and it hurt. But the feelings were vanquished when the rest of the Slytherins caught up.

"Nice work Miss Black," Rabastan said admiringly, catching up with Hermione and Alecto. "Looks like you've taken Transfiguration before."

"I was homeschooled," Hermione said, the lie already smooth on her tongue.

"Your parents must have done a good job."

Hermione shrugged, and feigned looking distressed. It was easy. The very thought of her parents was enough to make her want to cry, and though the idea of her fictional Black family didn't have the same effect, the subject was touchy. Rabastan noticed her expression and didn't push the matter.

Charms followed Transfiguration, and once more Hermione found herself shining amongst her classmates. It wasn't unexpected. Not only was she an exceptional student, she had also already completed this year, and studied far beyond the curriculum. Hermione noticed her peers openly staring, and was careful to keep her hand down. She answered no questions, but did her work to an excellent standard. Professor Flitwick was delighted, and awarded twenty points to Slytherin by the end of the session.

At lunch time Hermione found herself sitting amongst a group that included Alecto Carrow and her seventh year brother Amycus; Rabastan Lestrange; Regulus Black and a few girls she couldn't remember the name of. The great hall was more noisy than it had been during the morning, but still more subdued than it had been during Hermione's time. Even the teachers kept their conversations low and guarded.

Hermione was sitting next to Regulus Black, a fact that made her slightly uncomfortable. She, Ron and Harry had been so close to Sirius in her previous life, that it felt bizarre to be sitting next to his much hated dead brother. But it would be impossible to confuse the two at least, unlike Harry and James. Regulus was smaller and slighter than Sirius, with a somber countenance. He also kept staring at Hermione with narrowed eyes. Just when Hermione was about to say something, Regulus spoke.

"Are you sure you're a Black?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. Regulus pinkened slightly when those around paused in their conversations to watch. Certain it would be more suspicious to try and prove it, Hermione kept it simple.

"Yes," Hermione said, after she had finished her mouthful of soup. "Of course I'm sure."

"You're not named after a star," Rabastan said, leaning over the table with a grin. "Thank goodness. There's only so many constellations one family could take."

Regulus bristled immediately, but Hermione laughed; she couldn't help herself. "Phineas Nigellus Black wasn't named after a star," she pointed out after a moment.

Regulus looked thoughtful, and took a long drink from his goblet before replying. "I suppose not," he murmured. "I'm just saying it's unusual."

Hermione finished her soup, and pushed the bowl away. Then she removed the napkin from her lap and folded it neatly, thanking her good fortune that her parents had taught her formal manners growing up. Ron and Harry had eaten like pigs for much of the time, but Hermione was certain pureblood circles weren't that different to the upper elite of the muggles. Any deviation from form would be a mark of suspicion against her. But perhaps some convincing was necessary...

"My middle name is a star actually," Hermione said after a moment's consideration. "Hermione Druella Black."

Hermione felt a wrench as she let go of her middle name, even though she knew it was going to be necessary. But it was a name her parents had chosen for her, and with every tie she broke with her world and her identity, Hermione felt as though she was letting go of the girl her parents had raised, no matter that she knew that girl had died the moment she became entangled in a war. Still, it was worth it to see the look on Regulus's face.

Regulus's eyes widened. "That's the name of my Aunt," he said, staring at Hermione.

"I don't know which branch of the family I'm from," Hermione said, placing her spoon neatly in her bowl. "But they repeat names all the time."

Regulus nodded, and seemed mollified. His suspicious glances at least ceased for the remainder of the meal, and the rest of the small group seemed also to lose interest in their conversation. Instead a lively debate sprang up about the chances of the Slytherin Quidditch team. Hermione noticed Alecto rolling her eyes at another girl, and felt like joining in. No matter what world she inhabited, it seemed that boys would always be boys.

\\\/

Within a few days, Hermione felt like she was slipping into her role as Hermione Druella Black like a second skin.

During the course of the war she had on many occasions been forced to down polyjuice potions like cheap whiskey shots, and assume the identity of whoever was necessary for the cause. She had taken on the guise of Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry, Pansy Parkinson, various muggles, and on one memorable occasion, the ghost of Lily Potter. (Hermione had worried that it would be horribly disrespectful, but it had been Harry's suggestion after all, even though it had involved an uncomfortable amount of gravedigging. Harry had been pale and unhappy, but pointed out that in war there could be no squeamishness, and after all how else were they supposed to get information out of Snape?)

Rising in the morning with the other Slytherins girls, Hermione dressed like them, (although with her hair she certainly didn't _look_ as polished as the others,) she talked like them, ate meals with them and attended her classes in the large groups they favoured. Within days Hermione felt the spectre of Hermione Jean Granger begin to fade. Who could have known how easy acting could be?

It was on the first Friday that Hermione really found herself rocked from her newfound comfort. Friday morning brought their first ever potions lesson.

\\\/

"Well now this is absolutely splendid!" Professor Slughorn beamed, gazing down into Hermione's cauldron. "An absolutely wonderful attempt at the draught of living death."

Hermione tried to look modest, but felt her insides warm. Alecto, who was sitting beside her, shot her a smile. Hermione allowed herself to feel a tiny bit smug. It was just so nice to be _praised_ , to sit in a warm classroom under her teacher's eye and brew a potion in safety and peace, with plentiful ingredients.

One night when the trio were on the run, Hermione had brewed Draught of Living Death to save a life. The three of them had been in a tiny, damp cave with stolen ingredients and a transfigured cauldron. She had worked from memory that night, shaking with cold, praying that the muggle silverware she was using to chop the ingredients would still work. Ron and Harry had hovered helplessly above her, holding a torch over her cauldron, unable to offer any help except the most basic. Hermione grew colder and colder, her back aching as she hunched over the cauldron, until finally the potion had been finished. It had been perfect. Not even Professor Snape would have been able to fault it. Hermione had burst into tears then, weakened by exhaustion and hunger.

It was so very different to be in Slughorn's potions class compared to her past life, and even compared to Snape's lessons in her younger years at Hogwarts. And speaking of the man himself...

The pale greasy teenage Snape was sitting on the other side of the dungeon to Hermione. She had seen him several times during the week, but hadn't spoken to him. He spent time with a different group of Slytherins - Avery, Mulciber and a few others that Hermione recognised as future death eaters. She found it interesting. When Sirius had told them that Snape had spent all his time with a group of future death eaters, she had imagined that meant _all_ of them, like a Hogwarts version of the inner circle. She hadn't considered that they might have different friendship groups and different levels of closeness, just like the members of the other side.

"As usual, absolutely perfect Severus! Probably the finest first attempt I have ever seen, my my dear boy, very well done."

Professor Slughorn had reached Snape's cauldron. Snape looked smug, and if Hermione wasn't mistaken, shot a slightly triumphant look in her direction. It was odd to see her feared former potions master as a precocious student. And Hermione had to admit she was slightly irritated that his potion had outstripped hers. Even if he had been the one to _teach_ her to brew it.

Hermione packed away her ingredients, her mood not quite as good as it had been before. As she straightened up, a balled up scrap of paper landed on her desk. Frowning, Hermione opened it.

 _Never mind Black. Better luck next time._

Hermione looked up to see Rabastan smirking at her from the desk in front, but there was no malice on his face. Nonetheless, Hermione was not amused Scowling, she packed her bag.

\\\/

The second week followed the first in a similar manner. Hermione stuck close to Alecto, who seemed more than happy to have the company. Hermione decided she could easily see how a girl like her could have been drawn into the ranks of the Dark Lord. Alecto Carrow was shy and clumsy, and not the brightest spark. Her older brother was similar, and spent time with the other deatheaters-in-waiting. Hermione suspected that they had both been simply sucked in, lured by promises of power and riches. Although she had no doubt that the adult Alecto had been a vicious piece of work, Hermione could find no trace of that malicious spark in the younger counterpart. She could only supposed it had developed over years of exposure to Voldemort and his followers.

That didn't mean she wanted to kill Alecto any less.

That evening at dinner Hermione discovered it was a Hogsmeade weekend the following week. Upon seeing the notice she found herself in a predicament. Without a parent or guardian to sign her form, she doubted she would be allowed to go. For a few days Hermione considered speaking to Professor Dumbledore, but she wasn't willing to risk that he might say no on the grounds of the danger posed to someone with the kind of information she possessed. Eventually she decided Slughorn might be a sympathetic option.

After her last lesson on Friday, Hermione pushed past the Slytherins and made her way to the dungeons, ignoring the curious glances she received.

Slughorn's office was very different to how she remembered Snape's being. The bottles of pickled animals and body parts were gone, and instead the room was hung with lush drapes. It was amazing how the man could make a dungeon seem so cosy, Hermione mused.

If Slughorn was surprised to find her at his door, he didn't show it. Hermione quickly explained her parentless situation, and how she hoped to go to Hogsmeade with her friends.

"And you're worried you can't go Miss Black?" Slughorn boomed, peering over his desk at Hermione.

"Yes sir," Hermione said meekly. "I don't know who I would ask to sign my permission form. I don't have a guardian either."

Slughorn looked sympathetic. He tapped his fingers on the stack of papers in front of him, and Hermione noticed they were slightly sticky, with sugar crystals clinging to them. On a shelf behind the man was a telltale box of crystallised pineapple, and Hermione smiled. Clearly Slughorn had not developed his cravings later in life.

"I hear Honeydukes are doing an excellent run in crystallised pineapple imported from the tropics," Hermione said, trying not to sound too wheedling. "I was thinking of buying some, if only I was allowed to go. Perhaps I could bring some back?"

The thinly veiled bribe seemed to make up Professor Slughorn's mind, and he clapped his pudgy hands together with a genial smile. "Well Miss Black we cannot have you missing out on spending the day with your peers. I will speak to Dumbledore myself about the matter, and of course you may go."

"Thank you sir," Hermione said with relief, standing up.

"Don't forget the pineapple," Slughorn chuckled as he ushered her to the door.

 **\\\/**

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Cas**


	4. Pitch Black, Like a Black

**\\\/**

Come the following weekend, Hermione dressed as usual in her tight black robes. In her past life she would have normally dressed in muggle clothing for a Hogsmeade weekend, and she felt slightly uncomfortable wearing her Slytherin uniform. It was what the other girls were wearing though, and Hermione was quickly growing used to her new wardrobe.

Regulus and Rabastan were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, along with another boy Hermione didn't recognise. Hermione felt an unexpected surge of pleasure at seeing them, which she quashed immediately. That was dangerous territory. Nonetheless, Ron and Harry had never waited for her in the morning, and even if it was only for security reasons, it was nice to have a group always looking out to make sure you were with them.

Hermione, Alecto and Arabel joined them, although Arabel sniffed when Rabastan informed the girls that it was raining outside.

"How do you know?" Hermione asked as they left the dungeons, wand at the ready. The exit to the common room was always a dangerous manoeuvre; as it was so easy to get ambushed by students from other houses there.

"We were flying this morning," Regulus answered for Rabastan, not noticing the irritated look the older boy shot his way. "Quidditch practice."

"Ah." Well that explained why Regulus spent so much time with Rabastan. Hermione knew he was a year younger, and had wondered if it was just the lure of the deatheaters that kept him with the group. Clearly quidditch was also a driving factor.

"You don't play?" Rabastan asked, the grin returning to his face.

"No," Hermione said shortly, not going into detail.

Beside her, Arabel laughed musically. "You wouldn't catch me on a broomstick either!"

After a moment even Alecto agreed that it wasn't for her. This was new for Hermione. Nobody had ever agreed with her about quidditch before. Not Ron, not Harry, nor even Ginny. Especially not Ginny. Oh it wasn't like Hermione _hated_ quidditch. But she couldn't feign an interest she didn't feel, and many hours had been spent in the library to avoid the interminable conversations between her friends.

Outside it was breezy and cold. Hermione shivered, and pulled her cloak closer to her. The rain has eased slightly, and it was only spitting, but Hermione groaned anyway. She knew her hair was going to puff up into a frizzy mess.

Hermione was right in her prediction. By the time they had made it into the village and agreed to head to the three broomsticks, she was well aware that she resembled a badly groomed hedgehog. A fact that Regulus took no short amount of time to remind her of. Whilst Rabastan chivalrously headed for the bar to buy drinks, Regulus leaned across the table to Hermione.

"You need to sort the hair," he said seriously. "The Black's have enough embarrassments to their name."

"Shut your mouth Regulus," Hermione said sharply. She had learned over the past few weeks that there was more bark than bite to the boy.

"You can't talk to a lady like that," Arabel agreed haughtily. "Even if there is a grain of truth in it."

"I think Hermione looks fine," Alecto defended, and the third boy looked uncomfortable, as though he would rather be anywhere in the world than discussing a girls hair. Hermione couldn't blame him - she felt the same.

In the lull that followed, Hermione took a moment to glance around the pub. It looked exactly like she remembered it - warm, friendly and packed with people. She was surprised to see Rosmerta though. In her time, the propertier had been a beautiful older woman. But in her youth she was stunning, and most of the men in the establishment seemed to have at least half an eye on her at all times.

"Speaking of embarrassments to the family," Regulus suddenly hissed, as the door blew open with a sudden gust of wind. Hermione looked up as four boys sauntered in and froze.

It was the Marauders, and at first they didn't seem to have noticed the Slytherins. Then Sirius looked up as though some sixth sense told him his brother was in the vicinity. Spotting Regulus, a sneer spread across his face. He nudged James in the ribs, and the other boy looked over to them with a scowl. Tiredly, Remus Lupin subtly poked both Marauders in the ribs until they began to move, but not without Sirius flipping a rude hand gesture at Regulus.

"Prick," Regulus seethed. "I'll get him."

"Who are we getting brother?" Rabastan had returned with the drinks, which he handed out across the table, waving away all offers of money. Sinking into a chair beside the other boy, (oh what was his _name_?) Rabastan eyed them all with amusement.

"Sirius," Regulus said softly.

"The usual." Arabel rolled her eyes. "You'll get used to it," she told Hermione. "You haven't been here long enough to know, but Regulus' brother is an arse."

Hermione was mildly surprised to hear coarse language coming from the pretty mouth of Arabel Selwyn, and frowned as she looked over at the figures of the Marauders.

"What makes him an arse?" Hermione asked, slightly more sharply than she had intended. Rabastan raised his eyebrows at her.

"He just is," Regulus hissed, picking up his butterbeer and taking a ferocious sip. "Has been ever since he got sorted into Gryffindor."

"The house of the brainless," Arabel sneered. Hermione controlled her reaction carefully, although it was difficult.

"But he's your brother," she said, trying to sound reasonable. "You can't have always felt this way."

Regulus scowled, and stared moodily into the fireplace. Interpreting his silence as a refusal to reply, Rabastan took a sip of his drink and took up the story. Arabel and Alecto began conversing, having clearly heard this all before.

"You see Sirius boy over there," Rabastan said seriously, his eyes piercing Hermione. She nodded.

"Well as kids, he and Reggie had a pretty fucked up life."

"Do you _mind_ Rabastan," Regulus growled.

"Just telling it like it is," Rabastan shrugged.

Hermione leaned forward, trying not to let on how interested she was. Rabastan needed no encouragement to continue, and after a healthy swig of butterbeer he continued talking.

"You ever heard of Walburga and Orion Black?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment. "Vaguely. I don't know them at all though."

"Lucky you," Regulus said morosely. He seemed resigned to Rabastan telling Hermione his life story.

"They're completely screwed up," Rabastan agreed. "And I mean bad. Of course they take a sensible line on blood purity, but that's probably the best thing I can say about them. Most pureblood families use corporal punishment - father whacked me and Rod a fair few times when we were growing up. But the Blacks take it to a new level."

"They beat you and Sirius?" Hermione asked Regulus, her eyebrows raising. She tried to look more shocked, but it was difficult. After all the horrors she had witnessed, something like a familial abuse was hard to get worked up about.

"Yep," Regulus muttered. "But Sirius got it much worse than me."

"See Reggie here is the favoured child," Rabastan continued. "The good boy, toes the line, and understands how important it is to protect the pureblood way of life. But Sirius? He was too fucking dumb to even play along."

"So what happened?" Hermione asked. Her eyes slid across the crowded room to where the four Marauders sat together at a table. They were laughing, and looked carefree and happy. Sirius was trying to push James off his chair, and Remus was rolling his eyes.

"Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor and became a blood traitor," Rabastan said simply, following Hermione's gaze. "Reggie was younger. When he got to Hogwarts he was sorted into Slytherin like every other Black since the beginning of time, and Sirius has held it against him ever since."

"Are you sure that's what it is?" Hermione asked hesitantly. "Is he that bad?"

"Believe me," Regulus snarled. "That's what it is. And he's gone out of his way to make my life a misery ever since."

Hermione put her hands up quickly and nodded, pointing out that she had no idea what she was talking about. But even though Hermione knew that the young Sirius and James had been bullies, it was still hard for her to reconcile the laughing teenager in front of her with the man she had known.

\\\/

"So what did you think of your first trip to Hogsmeade?" Rabastan asked as they headed back up to Hogwarts in a group of five. The third boy had disappeared, mumbling something about needing to buy new quills. The rain had stopped, but it was beginning to get dark. The road up ahead was poorly lit, but behind it Hogwarts rose towering before them, blazing with light.

"It was interesting," Hermione said thoughtfully. "I enjoyed your unique perspective on Flourish and Blotts."

"Ah well, you know they don't put the best books where anyone can see them," Rabastan grinned in a self-satisfied kind of way. "And the store manager is an ex-slytherin after all. A little extra help never goes amiss when assisting members of his former house."

"Still," Hermione said, touching a package beneath her robes possessively. "I can't believe _Brewing Concepts of the Pacific Islands_ was even in stock! I think it's actually illegal to sell that to school children."

At once all of her companions burst out laughing at once. Arabel smiled at Hermione and shook her head. "There's a lot you've to learn about being a Hogwarts student," the Slytherin girl said wryly. "And the first is that Slytherins _always_ look after their own. That's now, or in fifty years time. It doesn't matter. Once a Slytherin… Always a Slytherin."

"You just wanted the book so you can get ahead on Snape," Rabastan winked. "I saw your face when he beat you in class."

"I do not!" Hermione protested half heartedly.

"Do so," Regulus countered.

"You weren't even there!"

A moment later, Hermione paused, and pricked up her ears. She became very still, like a wolf scenting for prey. Over the noise of the bickering she was almost certain she heard a slight sound coming up ahead.

"Wait!" Hermione hissed.

"What is it?" Arabel frowned. "My hair's getting wet again."

"Don't you hear that?"

All five Slytherins paused and listened carefully. Now there was silence Hermione could hear voices shouting something, and an answering snarl.

"Someone's fighting up ahead," Regulus said, his expression ugly. "Hurry up! I can't see anything in this twilight."

The five hurried quickly up the road, keeping to the shadows of the trees when they could. As the gates of Hogwarts came into view, they could make out dark figures in front of it. Hermione's heart sank as she recognised one of the voices, and she saw Regulus quickly coming to the same conclusion.

"It's my brother," he hissed. "It'll be the four of them again. Who do you think they're humiliating this time?"

"Let me go Potter!" A voice suddenly rang out through the darkness. Hermione recognised the voice and it was clear that her companions did too, as all five of them began to run towards the enormous iron gates.

"They've got Snape," Rabastan puffed to Hermione. " _Again._ "

An eerie calm began to descend over Hermione. Up ahead there were four distinct shapes - enemies. On the ground between the figures was a cowering shape - prisoner. This was easy. It was like coming home for Hermione, and she felt strategies and counterstrategies begin to flow through her head. It was natural to assume command of the situation the way she had always done after Harry died.

"Rabastan to the left with Alecto," Hermione snapped decisively without second thought. Rabastan was the strongest, and Alecto the weakest. It was the only way to make sure they didn't become victims themselves. "Arabel and Regulus to the right. Curve around like a pincer and make sure Potter and the others can't escape through the gates. Distract them. I'll get Snape, and as soon as he's clear, take them down."

Rabastan opened his mouth and seemed about to say something, but the expression on Hermione's face stymied him, and he nodded silently. "Come on Alecto," he said quickly.

With Rabastan capitulating, the other three swiftly moved into the positions Hermione had directed. Snape was pleading now, and there was no time to waste quibbling. The Marauders hadn't spotted them, but that would change soon.

"Now go!" Hermione hissed. Immediately the four peeled away from her to the right and the left, jogging towards the group at the gates. They were only about fifty feet away. Hermione hung back long enough to ensure Rabastan and Regulus were in position to cut off the gates, and then she sprinted towards the prone figure of Severus Snape.

"Hey Sirius! Still letting down the family I see?"

Hermione heard Regulus shout out from somewhere to her right, and watched impassively as Sirius Black spun towards the sound.

Suddenly another shout came from the left. "Watch your back Potter!"

James Potter turned away from Sirius to see Rabastan and Alecto heading towards them on the right. Remus and Peter immediately stood back defensively with their wands out. Impassively Hermione noticed that both boys had to pull their wands from their pockets first, indicating they hadn't been using them.

As all four Marauders turned towards the threats coming from both sides, Hermione got a clear look at Snape. His robes had been charmed bright pink, and he had boils erupting all over his face. As he looked up warily from the ground, he began to crawl towards the Hogwarts gates, frequently glancing back over his shoulder at his distracted tormentors. But he wasn't moving fast enough for Hermione's liking.

Hermione sprinted the last few metres towards the little group, and did the only thing she could think of. She cast the strongest blasting spell she could think of towards Snape, hurling him through the gates and out of range of the Marauders. She did remember to cast a cushioning charm before he landed, flopping gracelessly on to the lawn. He didn't look injured except for the boils, so Hermione flicked her wand again and the iron gates slammed shut with a resounding _clang_ , cutting Snape off from the group.

When the four Marauders spun around to see Hermione she was already prepared for them. Her four companions closed in, and the Marauders were surrounded. They seemed to realise that, and Hermione saw Remus hiss something to James. She wasn't waiting any longer.

"Take them out!" Hermione shrieked to the other Slytherins, and began casting with impunity. She sent off four stunning spells in a tight formation that curved around the group. One struck Peter Pettigrew, and he collapsed unconscious. James Potter managed to pull up a shield in time to protect himself, Sirius and Remus from the others.

Hermione smiled grimly, and moved in closer. Rabastan was shooting off some nasty curses, but none of them were getting through the shield. Arabel was concentrating on Sirius, who was closest to her, while Regulus seemed reluctant to hit his brother with a spell. All of these things Hermione observed from the corner of her eye, without taking her main focus away from the fight. It was an ability that had been hard won over the years off the war, a skill to be learnt rather than a talent.

Hermione was almost enjoying herself. Playing to her audience, she began using a complicated spell weaving technique that masked her enchantments. When she cast a disarming spell, Rabastan and the others would hear the incantation for an entrail-expelling curse, or something similar.

"What are you doing?" James roared at Hermione, letting his shield slip for a second. It was all the break Hermione needed.

"Incarcerous!" Hermione screamed, gesturing violently at James. "Stupefy! Stupefy!"

Sirius and Remus crumbled to the ground as jets of red light shot out from Hermione's wand and struck them in the chest. James was snared when ropes appeared and bound themselves tightly around him from chest to ankle. Unable to balance himself, he tumbled to the ground, knocking his glasses off in the process.

Hermione quickly ran forward and retrieved the wands of all four boys. Only when she had five wands in her hand did she pause and look around her, breathing heavily.

Arabel and Alecto were staring at her with wide eyes. Rabastan was smiling openly in triumph, but Regulus wouldn't meet anybody's eye. It was only as Hermione looked around and really took into the situation that she considered perhaps she might have overreacted a little. _Damn._

"Brilliant," Rabastan said, clapping Hermione on the shoulder as he walked forward to inspect the unconscious Marauders. "Nice job with the ropes. Wanna rough them up a little?"

"No!" Hermione and Regulus spoke at the same time, and glanced at each other for a moment. Regulus looked away with a scowl, and seemed to have spoken without thinking. Rabastan raised his eyebrows challengingly.

"They know it was us," Hermione explained, walking around the group to where James lay in an awkward heap. "You said everyone is biased against Slytherins right? Even though they attacked Snape, we'll still come off worse if they get back with bruises."

"Bruises?" Rabastan said, staring thoughtfully at the Marauders. "I was thinking more missing limbs."

James let out a shout, and began to struggle against his bindings. Hermione had been avoiding looking at him. It was too painful to see the face of her best friend gazing back at her, especially when she would never see Harry again. But James was not his son, and Harry would never have deliberately targeted anyone four-on-one the way Snape had been attacked.

Ignoring Rabastan's disbelieving face, Hermione muttered a quick spell and the ropes fell off James. Immediately he was on his feet, circling warily. Without a wand or backup he was helpless, and he knew it. But Hermione had to give him credit for bravery - he wasn't backing down or begging.

"Listen Potter," Hermione snapped sharply. It brought a rush of memories back to her, but she ruthlessly quashed them. "You're going to stop this targeting."

"Or what?" James said warily, moving deliberately so he stood between his friends and the Slytherins. Hermione stepped closer until she could see every freckle on his face. He didn't look so similar to Harry now they were stood eye to eye.

"You have no idea what I can do to you Potter," Hermione whispered in his ear. "I know _everything._ All those things you don't want Evans to ever find out about? Or what about the illegal things? Trust me, I _know."_

"You don't know anything," James said furiously. "Just who the hell do you think you are?"

"I don't know anything?" Hermione said, raising her eyebrows. "I know this isn't the first time Snape has been in danger because of your friends."

Very slowly and deliberately Hermione let her eyes drift over to Remus. The werewolf was lying spread-eagled, half slumped over Peter Pettigrew. Abruptly Hermione looked back at James. He had paled noticeably, but raised his chin defiantly and shook his head.

"No idea what you're talking about."

"Really?" Hermione said softly. "Nothing to say about _Moony?_ "

James started back as though Hermione had slapped him. "How did you - what do you - you can't -"

"So I'll do a deal with you," Hermione continued as though James hadn't spoken. "I want you and your pesky friends to stop targeting Slytherins on their own. If you get attacked, fair enough. Give as good as you get. But no bullying. And I want you to leave Snape alone. Permanently."

"What's it to you?" James asked with his brow furrowed. "You've only been here a month."

"I don't like bullying," Hermione stated flatly. "If you're not clever or smart enough to defeat your opponent in a fair fight then you shouldn't be trying anyway."

"Fine," James hissed, shooting another look at his friends. "But in return you don't tell _anyone_ what you know."

"What if it was an emergency?" Hermione countered, playing with him slightly. "Or if the truth could be important?"

James glared, and then capitulated. "Nobody unless it is an _absolute_ emergency. And you still have to check with us first. Do we have a deal Black?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "No telling anyone about Moony unless your conditions are met."

James nodded, and shivered slightly. He looked much smaller without his backup, and very pale. If he hadn't been casting unpleasant spells on a defenceless Snape Hermione might have even felt sorry for him. But it was almost dark, and the other Slytherins were shifting restlessly from foot to foot. Hermione took a few steps backwards until she was between Rabastan and Alecto.

"What was that?" Rabastan murmured.

"Later."

Hermione tossed James his wand quickly, and then dropped those belonging to the other Marauders on the ground where they were hard to see. Then she flicked her wand at the gates and they swung open. The Slytherins needed no telling, and they walked in a quick line towards the gates, Arabel leading the march. There was no sign of Snape on the Hogwarts grounds. Hermione didn't blame him for scarpering, especially with his robes charmed pink.

"Can we lock them out?" Arabel said longingly, glancing over her shoulder.

"Better not," Rabastan said with genuine disappointment.

As they walked back up to the castle Hermione went over the fight in her head. She hadn't wanted to alienate Harry's father, or his friends. But keeping them alive had to prioritise over making them like her. If Hermione wanted to stop the deaths before they began, she knew that she had to attack from the inside. The more vicious and capable she appeared, the faster she would be recruited by Voldemort. Hermione was not fooled by Rabastan's smiles and friendly words. She knew perfectly well he was a cold-blooded killer, and only hoped that he was reporting everything back to his older brother Rodolphus.

"So," Arabel said after a long silence. "Would you like to explain where you learnt a blood-freezing curse Hermione?"

Sometimes the best answer was not to answer at all. Then people would draw their own conclusions. Hermione glanced over at Arabel and gave a wicked little smile.

"Oh, nowhere in particular."

\\\/

 **Okay I should probably say I** _ **like**_ **the Marauders a lot. But the Slytherins don't. Canon Hermione would want to give them the benefit of the doubt, but our Hermione is suffering from some pretty bad PTSD and isn't capable of rationally identifying the difference between a school-yard bully and an enemy. Not to mention her fellow Slytherins hate 'em lots. Don't worry, this isn't going to be marauder-bashing, or even Gryffindor-bashing.**

 **Thanks for reading**

 **Cas**


	5. Dead Heroes and Living Nightmares

\\\/

"What are you writing Hermione?"

Hermione looked up from her little blue notebook to see Arabel staring at her from across the dormitory. It was early in the morning and chilly in the dungeons, and Hermione had a snuggly emerald shawl she had found in her new wardrobe wrapped around her shoulders.

"Just some notes on the spells McGonagall was talking about yesterday," Hermione lied easily. "Thought they could be adjusted for more...interesting purposes."

Arabel nodded and accepted that without comment, rising from her bed and heading to the bathroom. Hermione kept her eyes fixed on Arabel's retreating back until she was out of sight, and then bent her head back to the page. She picked up her quill again.

 _I don't remember an Arabel Selwyn. That must mean she didn't become a death eater. I wonder why, when all of her friends did._

Hermione paused, trying to think. But it was no good - there was no mention in her future of Arabel. Moving onto an easier prospect, Hermione began to write everything she remembered about Alecto Carrow.

She had purchased the little blue book at Hogsmeade the previous day, with her meagre supply of galleons that Dumbledore had warned her needed to last the year. It was small, royal blue, and charmed not to open for anyone except her. Hermione had added a few rather nastier curses for anyone who tried. She had been rather alarmed to find that a few weeks into term her memories of people were already becoming mixed up with the people she was meeting now. So she had resolved to write down every scrap of information about everyone she remembered, and then draw out a linear map of the first Wizarding war.

Already she had done the Marauders, several members of the first Order of the Phoenix, and her closest housemates. _Really,_ Hermione mused. _It's very lucky I was so interested in history._

With a _snap_ , she closed the little notebook and stowed it under her pillow. There would be time for more later.

\\\/

"Good morning class!" Professor Slughorn smiled genially around the potions classroom. "I hope you all enjoyed your Hogsmeade weekend. Today I would like to see you all create an Eye-Changing Elixir, incorporating the conclusions you formed in your essays on powder-based potions last week. You should find the instructions on page 67 of your potions book. Begin!"

Hermione glanced around the classroom, her eyes immediately landing on Snape. It was the first time she had seen him since the Hogsmeade incident. When she asked Rabastan where he was, the boy had shrugged and said that Snape never spent much time with his house, and definitely wouldn't want to see them. Thinking of the Snape she had known, Hermione had to agree.

The pale, greasy teenager was sitting in a corner of the room at his usual workbench, looking even sourer than usual. When Slughorn stopped talking he had the fire lit beneath his cauldron before anyone else had moved. Then he stood, pushing past Alecto and heading for the store cupboard. Hastily Hermione rose to her feet and followed him. They met in front of the store cupboard at exactly the same time.

"Please, you first," Hermione gestured to Snape. He eyed her distrustfully, and then began gathering together his supplies.

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked quietly. Snape froze, and then whipped his head around to glare at Hermione.

"Fine," he hissed.

"You got the boils fixed?" Hermione queried, wondering why she was bothering. Snape shot her another death glare.

"I didn't need you there. You shouldn't have interfered."

"Didn't need help?" Hermione snapped as quietly as she could. "Well it sure didn't look that way to me."

"Leave me alone," Snape hissed viciously. He turned and stormed back to his desk, and Hermione grimaced.

"What did you expect?" Hermione turned to see Alecto standing at her shoulder, looking into the store cupboard. "Nobody likes feeling weak."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Alecto with interest, who shrugged. "Think about it," the shorter girl mumbled, before heading back to her desk.

Once she had all her ingredients assembled, Hermione began carefully slicing up her pixie skin into thin strips. She concentrated all her energy on making sure each ingredient was prepared absolutely perfectly to the best of her ability, and that all of her tools were uncontaminated. This time her potion had to be _perfect._

"Wonderful!" Professor Slughorn said, gazing into Hermione's cauldron at the end of the lesson. "Excellent attempt! Do pay attention Miss Carrow, Miss Black really has quite the grasp of potions."

Hermione couldn't help a small smile escaping. "Thank you sir," she demurred.

Hermione couldn't resist sliding her eyes across the room to Snape. He was looking away, his expression distinctly disgruntled, and although she knew it was petty to feel so competitive with her former potions master, Hermione couldn't help a slight feeling of triumph.

But when Slughorn reached Snape's cauldron he beamed again. "Inspired, Severus! Absolutely inspired. Did you add the hemlock to stabilize the tendency to curdle?"

"And to improve the taste," Snape said, his lips quirking incongruously. Although he wasn't looking in her direction, Hermione felt that it was directed at her.

"What an invention," Slughorn said proudly, before moving on. Hermione slid her books back into her bag in an ill temper. She should have remembered that Snape had a tendency to alter the original recipes. After all, he was the half-blood prince.

\\\/

"Black! Hey, Black. Can I have a word?"

A few weeks later at the beginning of a chilly December, Hermione was walking down the corridor alone when she heard the most unlikely person calling her name. She spun around with her wand out and her eyes narrowed, but let her wand fall when she saw who it was. Remus Lupin jogged up to her, panting slightly. He was pale and had dark circles under his eyes, and Hermione winced. This year the full moon fell on the Winter solstice, and they were only few weeks away. The lycanthropy would always be stronger if it landed on a special day.

"What can I do for you Lupin?" Hermione asked, catching herself just in time before she called him Remus.

Remus looked unnerved by her civil tone. "I was hoping I could speak to you privately," the werewolf said, glancing out of the arrow slit windows along the corridor. The snow has arrived, and the grounds were blanketed in a white icy layer.

"Certainly," Hermione said calmly. She had been expecting this much sooner.

"Can we…" Remus trailed off, gesturing to an empty classroom.

Hermione nodded, and followed Remus into the classroom. She noticed the werewolf left a wide berth of space in the doorway before closing the door, and her suspicions erupted. Choosing not to act on them for the moment Hermione waited to hear what Remus had to say. The unused classroom was full of stacked desks, and Hermione pulled out a chair to sit on. Remus chose to stand.

"What can I do for you?" Hermione repeated.

Remus shifted his feet. "I need to know how you found out about my...problem."

"Need to know?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow. "I thought I already made a deal with Potter to ensure nobody found out."

"You mean blackmailed him," Remus said flatly.

"The situation shouldn't have been necessary in the first place," Hermione countered. "Surely you don't think what was happening was right."

Remus sighed, deflating. "No, I don't think it was right."

"I know. You didn't even have your wand out until we showed up."

"How on earth did you notice _that?_ " Remus said in surprise, perching on the edge of the desk in spite of himself. "It all happened so fast."

"Everything is in the details Lupin," Hermione said calmly, inspecting her nails. "I needed to pay attention to that situation to make sure nobody else got hurt."

"Nobody else got hurt?" Remus blurted out. "You were using dark curses!"

Hermione sighed again. "No I wasn't. "

"Yes you were! I know what a bone-breaking curse looks like, Black."

"Really?" Hermione said slowly. She pulled her wand from her sleeve and polished it on her robes. "You mean like...this?"

Hermione flicked and twirled her wand towards Remus, and focussed on weaving the semblance of a bone-breaking curse around an Expelliarmus. Remus choked and threw himself backwards, but couldn't get out of the way in time. The sickly purple jet of light that resembled the dark curse hit Remus in the chest. The werewolf stared, wide eyed as his wand flew out of his hand and over to Hermione.

"See," Hermione said, neatly catching the wand. "Things aren't always what they seem."

"How did you - what was _that?_ " Remus gasped, staring at Hermione with wide eyes. "I've never even heard of anyone masking one spell with another. Where did you _learn_ that?"

"I invented it," Hermione said simply. It was funny really that Remus should ask where she had learnt that method of spell-casting, considering he had helped her do the research to formulate it. They had spent hours in the Grimmauld place library, searching and searching for something that might help them in the war. Masking spells wasn't life-saving, but it had a whole multitude of uses, and could be reversed. A bone-breaking spell could just as easily be disguised as a harmless Expelliarmus.

"So you weren't really trying to kill us?"

"Oh use your brains Lupin!" Hermione said, exasperated. "If I was trying to kill you then you'd already be dead."

"I don't understand," Remus admitted, shaking his head.

"You don't need to," Hermione said quietly. "But I hope that makes you feel better. Now you know one of my secrets too, so you can be far more sure I won't tell anyone about yours. Will that do for now?"

Hermione stood from the chair and turned towards the door.

"I...wait!"

Hermione half turned, her eyebrows raised. "Yes?"

"You didn't tell me how you found out about my problem. Or _why_ you won't tell anyone. I don't understand why you're doing me a favour, or how you know this in the first place!"

Hermione didn't answer. Instead she closed her eyes and let herself feel for the presence she had sensed in the room. It wasn't difficult when you really got in touch with what a person's mind felt like. It was like a hum of energy concentrated inside a small space, buzzing with life and magic. Hermione focussed until she had pinpointed where the energy was coming from, and then she opened her eyes.

"I told Potter already. I know _everything._ Right _Prongs_?"

Hermione flicked her wand absentmindedly, and there was a sudden scuffling in the corner of the room. An invisibility cloak dropped to the floor, revealing a startled James Potter peering at them both. He looked very much like Harry when he wore that slightly bewildered expression, and Hermione felt her heart twist painfully for a moment, before she dropped her mental walls ruthlessly. James picked up his cloak with a scowl, and turned to Remus.

"How did she know I was there?!"

"I don't know," Remus said, frowning, and turning to Hermione. But she had already left the room in a swirl of robes.

\\\/

Hermione paced the darkened dormitory ceaselessly. It was late Christmas Eve, and she was the only sixth year Slytherin girl left at Hogwarts. When her companions - she hesitated to refer to people she intended to murder in cold-blood as _friends -_ \- had queried why she was not returning home for the holidays, she had claimed that her family were away, conducting private research. It was such an obvious lie that Hermione had no doubt her fellow Slytherins were drawing their own, more nefarious conclusions.

Hermione was restless. It was always a difficult time of year, Christmas. Brought back all sorts of painful memories that wouldn't leave her alone, no matter how much she steeled her mind to their temptations. The earliest years with her parents, coloured with the beautiful naivety of childhood. Then the years with Ron and Harry: Sometimes at the Burrow, sometimes at Hogwarts and sometimes back at home with her parents again. The final years of the war, of course, had not been good memories.

After her parents had died, Christmas has lost all of its joy. Luckily for her, nobody else was taking any joy in it either by then. Both Ron and Harry had lost enough people that they loved that the thought of a joyful celebration was agony to their cold spirits. The date had passed by, unmarked and unmentioned.

Abruptly Hermione turned away from the stone walls and headed for the stairs. At least in the common room there would be a fire, and perhaps a few younger students chattering. Listening to human voices - any human voices - would perhaps make this night more bearable.

But the common room was empty, although a fire crackled merrily in the grate and there was a large, frostily beautiful Christmas tree adorned with silver in the corner of the room. Hermione sighed, defeated and sank into one of the leather chairs by the fire.

"Why are you here?"

Hermione's heart almost leapt out of her chest, and she gasped. Her arm jerked reflexively, sliding her wand from her sleeve into her hand and she had jumped to her feet and fired off a curse before she realised what she was doing. A dull _thud_ alerted her to the fate of the unexpected presence in the room.

"Oh no…"

Hermione hurried across the room, then grimaced as she looked down at the stiff and frozen form of Severus Snape, lying in front of the stairs to the boys dormitory. His eyes moved furiously through the body bind, and she had no doubt that if he could speak he would be spitting expletives.

Quickly Hermione spoke the counter curse, and released Snape from the spell. The teenager jumped to his feet immediately, snarling at her.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

"I'm sorry!" Hermione put her hands up to show she had stowed her wand. "You startled me. It was just a reflex."

Snape glared at her, but looked slightly mollified. "Some reflex," he muttered, pushing past her to sit by the fire.

Hermione eyed him curiously as she retook her seat. She hadn't had much of a chance to observe him at close quarters in the last few weeks, keeping in mind the advice Alecto had given her. But now he was in front of her it was impossible not to scrutinise the boy for fragments of the man she remembered.

Teenage Snape was gawky and awkward, with bad skin and greasy hair. He curled up in his seat by the fire, his arms wrapped loosely around his knees in a pose she could never imagine the older man taking. He wore a constant frown - a comforting and familiar reminder of her old life - and seemed to be developing lines across his forehead at the tender age of sixteen.

All in all, Hermione couldn't say she would have been impressed if she hadn't known what Snape would grow up to be. But she _did_ know, and she couldn't help but stare closely. It seemed so strange, so incongruous that this sulky teenager would become the strongest, bravest man she had ever met. Still, if Hermione had her way he wouldn't have to. Snape deserved a better life this time around too.

"Stop staring at me!"

"Sorry," Hermione said hastily, looking at the fire. "Didn't know I was."

Hermione gazed into the flames for a few moments, watching meaningless shapes swirling through their fiery depths. She was almost hypnotised when, much to her surprise, Snape spoke again.

"Why are you still here?"

Hermione bristled. "I'm a Slytherin too! I have just as much right to be here as you do and -"

"No, I meant why are you still at Hogwarts! You know what? Just forget it."

"Oh. Sorry," Hermione said for the second time that night, flushing. "My family is gone, and I don't know where my relatives are. So it was easier to stay here. You?"

Although it was dim in the room, Hermione saw Snape's expression darken, and she wished she hadn't asked the return question. After all, she knew what his grim, bitter life outside of the castle walls was like. No wonder he didn't like to return home.

"I had to study," Snape said after a moment. Hermione nodded along with the lie. They sat in silence for a few more moments, and Hermione had almost decided to go to bed when she felt herself start speaking again.

"That was a really good idea the other day in potions - to add the mint to the Euphoria Elixir."

Snape started, and he looked very surprised at her words. He eyed her suspiciously for a moment before nodding. "Thanks. Slughorn thought so too."

"What made you do it?" Hermione pressed, unable to help herself. Ever since Harry had arrived in potions class with that ratty old book belonging to the Half-Blood Prince, Hermione had been torn between a mixture of appalled horror, unwilling interest, and envy. But she had never expected the chance to actually discuss the developments and alterations with the man himself.

Snape raised an eyebrow, and looked sceptical for a moment. "A few things."

"Like what though?"

Another eyebrow raise. "You really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Fine. I was looking at Heltric's theories on herbs, and the argument he presented on -"

"The use of muggle herbs in magical brews, in _Potions for the Everyday Brewer,"_ Hermione said, nodding eagerly. "Of course. But I don't see how that could have made you decide to combine mint with a base as potentially risky as -"

"Will you let me speak?" Snape scowled, but didn't look too displeased. In fact he looked more like he was reassessing her.

"Sorry," Hermione muttered for the third time.

" _As_ I was saying. I was looking at Heltric's theory, when I realised he hadn't taken into account the way in which the herbs were grown. All of the herbs he studied had been naturally grown in a magical environment to stimulate their growth, in the same way that all mass-produced potions herbs are."

"No," Hermione breathed. "So simple? Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Snape looked rather pleased with himself. "After a lot of experimenting, I realised that when the herbs were grown in an entirely magic-free manner, without any trace of Magical interference, they became much less volatile. It then becomes possible to add them to the brews without potential risk for explosion."

Hermione thought quickly. She had read about the developments in the potions field while she was at Hogwarts for the first time. Her background research had included the relatively useless but still interesting snippet that a few years before she entered Hogwarts, it became mandatory that all muggle herbs for use in potions must be prepared using only muggle means. Snape must have been the one to make that happen.

"Amazing," Hermione breathed. Snape looked rather gratified.

"Maybe not amazing," he allowed, still looking less severe than usual. "But very helpful."

"So you grow your own herbs?" Hermione asked after a moment. "Here?"

"Professor Sprout allows me a corner of the greenhouses," Snape nodded.

Hermione caught her breath. If she could only…

"Could I see?"

Snape eyed Hermione suspiciously, and Hermione wished she hadn't sounded quite so eager. But if all the herbs in the potions store cupboard were substandard compared to Snape's… And if she could actually watch how he prepared them…

"Maybe," Snape allowed after a moment. Hermione thought that was probably the best she was going to get, and grinned triumphantly. She couldn't help herself - the opportunity was to great to pass up. After a moment she let her thoughts drift back to the other potions she had seen Snape make.

"What about the week before the last?" Hermione said after a moment. "That headache draught. Slughorn said he'd never seen anything like it. You _can't_ have just been following the normal instructions."

Snape uncurled his legs from his defensive posture and stretched them out towards the fire, looking more relaxed than Hermione had seen him before. "Well," he began with the self-important voice of a young student attempting to lecture others. It was nothing like his adult teaching voice, and Hermione held back a chuckle. "I started like this…"

The evening passed quickly, and with more pleasure than Hermione would have thought possible. For the first time in forever she felt she was speaking with someone that could _really_ hold their own in the cerebral arena, and it was wonderful to lose herself in the bliss of stimulating argument.

Although several times Hermione and Snape descended into vicious debate - Snape at one point leaving and returning with an ancient copy of a potions text that he slammed down in front of Hermione to prove his point - at no point did either party leave the room. When the clock above the fire chimed midnight, Hermione wished Snape a Happy Christmas. He scowled sourly at her, and continued explaining his theory of elixir degeneration.

In that manner the night passed by until the early hours of the morning, when Hermione finally put her hand up to stem the flow of words, yawning widely.

"I need to get some sleep," she admitted, rubbing her itchy eyes. "But thanks Snape. This has been really interesting."

"Thank you, Black." Snape said after a moment. The lines on his face deepened as he regarded her. "For someone raised away from Hogwarts you know...a passable amount about potions."

Hermione snorted. "Passable? I'll give you a run for your money any day now."

"I look forward to it," Snape said as he stood.

As he left the common room, Hermione smiled faintly to herself.

 _Yes, he definitely deserves a second chance this time around._

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Cas**


	6. Promises and Astonishes

**Chapter Six**

 **\\\/**

"Did you have a nice holiday?" Alecto asked Hermione politely, as the group congregated around the Slytherin table on the first night back.

"Quite pleasant," Hermione nodded. "I like the quiet. How about yourself?"

Alecto's face fell for a split second, and Hermione saw the dumpy girl shoot a frightened look at her brother, seventh year Amycus, who was sitting a few seats away with Lucius Malfoy. Hermione suppressed a shudder.

"Oh yes, it was fine," Alecto said a moment later. Her tone was rather subdued.

"Well I had a simply terrible time!"

Arabel Selwyn slid into the seat opposite Hermione and Alecto, pursing her pretty lips as though she had tasted something unpleasant. "My father has the most _awful_ ideas about which parties are best to attend, and dragged mother and I to some really unpleasant gatherings."

"How dreadful for you," Hermione murmured.

"Watch your mouth Arabel," Rabastan said, leaning across the table. "You don't talk about _his_ parties like that."

"I'll talk about them how I like," Arabel sniffed. "The food was second rate, and as for the entertainment…"

But what exactly was so bad about the entertainment Hermione never found out, as at that moment Professor Dumbledore stood up and began his start of term speech. At least it gave Hermione ample time to consider the implications of what she had just heard. Considering there was no record of an Arabel Selwyn in her time, it gave Hermione a very bad feeling about Arabel objecting to the Dark Lords gatherings.

\\\/

Although Snape had loosely agreed to show Hermione where he kept his muggle herbs in the greenhouses, he didn't broach the subject again as term began. They were on friendlier terms, but rarely socialised. Hermione had all but given up when she found herself collared on the way to herbology one morning.

"Black!"

"Get off me!" Hermione snapped, pulling her robes free. Snape took a step back, looking embarrassed. A red flush stole across his cheeks.

"Sorry. It's just that it's so hard to catch you on your own."

Hermione conceded that was true. The Slytherins rarely went anywhere unaccompanied.

"What do you want?"

Snape looked around as if to check there were no observers. "Do you still want to see my herbs?"

"Took your time," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows. "Christmas was weeks ago."

"Yes well, I've been busy," Snape muttered. "Look, if you want to see them, meet me at Greenhouse Four at lunchtime."

Snape strode off after the rest of their class without another word, and Hermione narrowed her eyes after him. She was starting to realise that the snarky Professor she had known in her own time hadn't been entirely a product of his spying years. It seemed that Snape was just simply...Snape.

When herbology finished and the rest of her class began to meander back up to the castle, Hermione deliberately lingered behind in the humid greenhouse. Rabastan, Alecto and Arabel waited at the door for Hermione, but she waved them off as casually as she could.

"I'll see you after lunch. I need to talk to Professor Sprout about something."

When her friends finally left, Hermione noted that Snape had already slipped out. Feeling the slight thrill of doing something out-of-the-ordinary, Hermione looked out of the doors to check there was no-one watching, and then scurried across to Greenhouse Four.

Inside there was a profusion of plant life. Hermione had to duck beneath the umbrella-sized leaves of an exotic looking banana plant, and dodge a lazy snap from the fanged geranium trying its luck. Greenhouse Four was generally reserved for advanced seventh year students working on their own personal projects, particularly dangerous experiments that needed to be kept away from the rest of the students.

"Hello?" Hermione called, peering into the gloom. The voice-sensitive glass had been adjusted to twilight, and it was dim and hot inside. Hermione was glad she was already wearing her herbology robes or she would have been sweating heavily.

"Through here!"

Hermione followed the voice around a corner of stacked plant pots, and stared in disbelief. Snape whipped his head around, and immediately scowled.

"What?!"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

It wasn't nothing. Hermione had just about accustomed herself to the concept of Snape as another student, but this was something else. The teenager had stripped off his outer robes to reveal a pair of blue jeans, and a dirty black T-shirt with a familiar slogan.

 _Snape listens to Metallica?_ Seeing Snape in muggle clothes was high up on the list of things Hermione couldn't possibly imagine.

"Good. Come have a look then."

Hermione stepped closer, and gazed down at what she was seeing. Snape had an entire dedicated corner of the greenhouse, separated from the rest of the plants by a metre or more. The rich, fertile bed of dark moist earth was lined with innocuous looking grey pebbles.

"Are those magic-blockers?"

"Magic-blockers," Snape snorted. "Anti-Magi stones, you mean."

Hermione grimaced, embarrassed. It was rare that she forgot herself and used such a _muggleborn_ expression. "Yes, that's what I meant."

"Yes, keeps all the magic from the rest of the plants away from them."

Hermione crouched down to take in the plants Snape was growing. It was quite an extraordinary collection he was creating, spanning square several metres of earth. Tiny shots of green poked through the moist soil at several points, while other plants had flourished and were already almost a foot high. Hermione counted almost two dozen varieties.

"This is brilliant," Hermione breathed, unable to help herself. Snape looked very pleased.

"It isn't bad," he conceded. "Of course a little bit of Magic will always leach through after long enough exposure, but that can't be helped."

"How long have you had this?" Hermione asked.

Snape shrugged. "Since fourth year, when I realised why none of my experiments were working."

 _Fourth year! He was experimenting from fourth year?_

"That's quite impressive."

"I know."

Unable to help herself, Hermione laughed. Snape scowled at her for a moment, and then he grinned suddenly. Hermione was floored. She would never have been able to picture a smile on the face of Severus Snape, and it was as bright and unexpected as a sunny day during the Scottish winter.

"Arrogant sod," Hermione mumbled, examining the plants closer. She could feel Snape smirking at her.

"Yes."

Hermione walked around the herb garden, observing the complicated irrigation system that had been rigged up above it. She wondered where on earth Snape had gotten his hands on a muggle plant-watering system, considering all of the other plants were sustained by slow-release aquamenti charms. As she examined, Snape said nothing. He seemed content to let her explore without comment. Finally, Hermione finished her observations.

"Well," she said after a long moment, not sure how to work up to what she wanted to ask. "This is really something you've got here. Really special."

Snape didn't say anything, and Hermione remembered how much he hated it when people stated the obvious. And she was almost certain he would say no to what she wanted to ask...but if she didn't ask now..

"Just spit it out," Snape said suddenly. "Stop wringing your hands like that."

Hermione grimaced. The nervous habit she had picked up in prison had lingered in her new life, and she was having trouble breaking it.

"Do you think I could help you? And in return...could I use some of these?"

Snape stared at her incredulously. "You? Help me?"

"Yes Snape," Hermione said crossly. "Me. No need to sound so surprised."

"No, no." Snape corrected, shaking his head. "I didn't mean it like that. I just...nobody really cares about potions ingredients except me, not when you can get them from the store cupboard."

"Well I do," Hermione sniffed. "Quality is important. Especially for me if I'm going to beat your marks."

Snape cracked a grin. "Not on your life Black. You're good - but not that good."

"Is that a yes? You'll let me help?"

"One one condition."

"What is it?"

Snape hesitated for moment, scratching his head awkwardly. Hermione grimaced at the flakes of dandruff in his greasy hair. Finally after a moment he broke his silence.

"Last term you...you helped me. I couldn't defend myself like that. I... I want a trade."

"You want to practice defense?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"No, Black. I want you to teach me. And believe me I'm not enjoying the process of asking."

Hermione stared at Snape for a long moment. She could understand why he would ask, after the demonstration that she had performed in front of him a few months ago. But it struck her as strange to see Severus Snape asking _anyone_ for help, let alone her.

"You know what? Forget it," Snape snapped, turning away with his cheeks reddening. "Never mind, I'll do it myself."

"No, no," Hermione broke it. "Sorry, I was just surprised. Yes, I'll teach you."

"You will?" Snape sounded surprised, and still slightly defensive.

"Yes. I will."

As she walked back to the castle a short while later, Hermione wondered just what she was letting herself into.

\\\/

"Where were you after herbology?" Rabastan asked a few hours later, while the Slytherins lounged around the common room.

"I went for a walk," Hermione lied. "Around the forest."

"Why would you do that?" Arabel asked, frowning as though the idea was particularly distasteful to her.

"Clear my head," Hermione shrugged. "Why not?"

Hermione wasn't entirely sure why she felt the urge to conceal her plans with Snape from the rest of the Slytherins. Perhaps it was because she believed there was a possibility he could be saved, while she had no such illusions about the rest of them. Their pact was something she wanted to keep private, in case she failed.

"I'm getting an early night," Hermione said, a short while later. She faked a yawn, and her friends nodded goodnight to her.

Hermione wasn't tired at all, but she needed a chance to write up more notes in her little blue book. She had only written up to D so far, and she couldn't remember very much about Dolohov. Not for the first time she wished that she had only been able to keep her beaded bag with her. An updated copy of Hogwarts: A History that covered the 1980s would have been invaluable.

But when Hermione entered the girl's dormitory, she felt immediately that something was wrong. There was a funny noise coming from the bathroom, a kind of sniffling. Warily, and with her wand outstretched before her, Hermione approached the door.

She had learnt her lesson about knocking, and didn't given any warning, but simply pushed the door open in one smooth motion.

"Oh!"

"Alecto?" Hermione said with surprise, taking a step backwards. "What are you doing?"

Alecto was sitting with her knees drawn up, her body turned away from Hermione in a curled up defensive posture. Her face was wet, and her eyes were red. It was obviously that the sniffling sound had been Alecto allowing herself a good sobbing session.

"Nothing," Alecto stammered, pushing her hands into her pockets. She stood up and wiped her face with the sleeve of her robe, and Hermione had to hold back a grimace.

"What's the matter?" She tried again.

"Nothing," Alecto insisted, although her eyes were filling again. Hermione pulled several sheets of toilet roll from the holder and handed them to the other girl, who blew her nose loudly.

Hermione wasn't entirely sure what to do with the situation. It seemed so wrong to comfort a Death Eater, but she would look entirely heartless if she walked away. A twinge of guilt was also in there, as she looked at the chubby sixteen year old who bore so little resemblance to her older self. Alecto was a mess, and Hermione wasn't sure why.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Alecto insisted, standing up a little taller. "I'm fine. Honestly."

Unable to push the issue, Hermione decided to give it up as a bad job. She left Alecto mopping at her face in the bathroom, and headed for her bed where she had been going in the first place.

But as she made careful notes on everything she could remember about the Death Eater called Gibbons, her mind was across the room in the bathroom with the crying girl. Alecto was often quiet and withdrawn, but Hermione assumed that was slowness, rather than reticence. Now she made an unconscious choice to watch more closely.

What she observed about Alecto over the next several days disturbed Hermione. She noticed that the girl often picked at her food, that she disappeared into the bathroom late at night, and that she avoided her brother Amycus at all costs. All of it added up to a sinister picture.

Hermione didn't know what to do, so she wrote it all down and hoped an opportunity to find out more would present itself.

\\\/

A few days later, Hermione was heading to lunch when she heard voices up ahead in the corridor, and sped up. Someone was haranguing another student, and it sounded intriguing.

"It's irresponsible, that's what it is!"

"I would have done it," a male voice said coaxingly. "I just didn't have time."

"Too busy with quidditch practice I suppose," the first voice hissed. "And now you want _me_ to save your skin!"

Hermione turned the corner curiously, and a smile spread itself across her face. Harry's parents were arguing in the corridor, and it was really rather sweet. Lily was clutching several pages of notes, and spitting fire, her blazing green eyes remorseless as she pinned James Potter against the wall with her gaze.

"Don't be like that Lils," James said piteously, his eyes imploring. "I'll give them straight back to you."

"After you've lent them to Sirius," Lily growled. "So he can be similarly irresponsible."

James opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly caught sight of Hermione out of the corner of his eye. His posture instantly went from pleading to defensive, and he raised his wand in readiness. Lily followed his gaze, and when she saw Hermione she snorted.

"Really James, she's hardly going to attack you."

"She's done it before," James growled, keeping his wand trained on Hermione.

Hermione sauntered towards him, deliberately leaving her wand in her pocket to show her unconcern. Lily was frowning now, glancing warily from James to Hermione.

"You attacked James?" Lily asked with an uncertain look. Hermione noticed the prefect badge on her robes and smiled. Lily reminded her of herself, many years ago.

"Potter deserved it," Hermione threw out carelessly. "He was torturing Snape again. Four on one. But don't worry - he promised never to do it again."

"Is that true? You attacked Severus again?" Lily spun to look at James, who shrank back against the wall and raised his hands appeasingly.

"Of course not. I wouldn't -"

"You know you would," Hermione said, stopping in front of him. "Don't lie. But you've promised to stop, haven't you?"

"Yes," James said hoarsely. Something in Hermione's expression seemed to unnerve him, and he kept glancing at her pocket where he knew her wand was hidden.

Hermione nodded and smiled at Lily before walking on down the corridor. She couldn't help the warm feelings she felt when she saw Harry's parents in front of her. She could so easily picture a future for them where their lives were not cut short, and they raised their son themselves and perhaps even had other children.

Behind her she heard the conversation start up again. She didn't want to come between that couple - she would never be able to forgive herself if Harry wasn't born. But Hermione wouldn't tolerate the behaviour that James was so fond of, and in spite of his promise she would still be keeping a wary eye on him.

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Cas**


	7. You Brought Your Mind to a Wandfight

**Chapter seven**

 **\\\/**

"...All I'm saying is that she doesn't act like a pureblood!"

Hermione prowled down the narrow stairwell towards the Slytherin common room, her ears pricking up at the voices ahead.

"You're a fine one to talk Avery," another voice drawled. "When was the last time your family followed any pureblood traditions?"

Hermione paused by the entrance to the common room to listen, but there was silence. She stepped in, and a group of faces turned towards her, some registering amusement and others dismay. Avery sat at the centre of the melee on one of the leather sofas. He was surrounded by a group of students including his usual companions; Marcus Mulciber and of course, Severus Snape.

Hermione was mildly surprised. She had not had much cause to mix with Avery since the year began, although she knew who he was - and his later deeds merited his own section in her little blue notebook. Nonetheless she hadn't realised he had quietly been building his own opinion on her.

"Is there a problem?" Hermione asked icily. Most students were avoiding her eyes. When nobody spoke after a moment she raised one eyebrow, a move that had taken years to perfect.

It was Snape who spoke up after a few moments.

"Avery wasn't certain about your parentage," he sneered. "We were just setting him right."

"Thanks Snape," Hermione said carelessly, stalking forwards. "Appreciate it. But Avery is welcome to bring any concerns he might have to me _directly."_

"You're all talk Black," Avery scowled. "You're full of stories, but can you back any of it up? I say you're just another talentless mudblood masquerading under a fake name."

Hermione bit back a laugh at how close to the truth Avery had unknowingly strayed. She stepped closer until she was amongst the students, all of whom parted before her until she was almost opposite Avery.

"You are insulting me, my family name, and my blood," Hermione said softly. The room had quietened and everybody could hear the words she spoke.

"Don't force me to challenge you."

"Ha! You?" Avery was brimful of confidence, and leaned back further into the sofa. His blonde hair fell into his eyes and he looked handsome and unconcerned. Mulciber grinned, and clapped him on the shoulder. Snape was frowning though, and leaned forward to murmur something into Avery's ear.

"Not now Severus," Avery brushed it off. "As for you Black, I'll take you any day of the week."

The surrounding students were grinning now, taking their lead from Avery. One or two nodded approval, and Avery preened under the attention.

"Any day of the week?" Hermione asked silkily.

"Scared, Black?"

"Of you?" Hermione bit back a chuckle. "Friday night, quidditch pitch. Don't get caught. And it's the Hogsmeade Valentine's trip on the Saturday, so if I were you I'd use the week to get some practice in - or Mulciber here might be disappointed when his boyfriend shows up with bruises."

Avery spluttered, turning bright red as the students around him whooped and laughed. Snape cracked a smile, although it quickly vanished when Avery shot him a furious look.

"You'll see, you ugly little bitch," Avery snarled, leaning forwards as though attempting to intimidate Hermione with his height and size.

"We'll see," Hermione said idly, sauntering away. "I do believe actions speak louder than words."

\\\/

"Is it true you challenged Avery to a duel?" Arabel hissed.

"It is."

"Are you mad? He's the best at defense in his year! And they say that he's on good terms with - with - with _him."_

"Connection with the Dark Lord won't help Avery with our Lady Black here," Rabastan said, smiling proudly at Hermione. "Didn't you see her with the Gryffindors? She could have torn them apart single-handed. Avery won't know what's hit him until it's too late."

"You shouldn't call me Lady Black," Hermione said serenely, applying clear gloss to her nails. "Regulus's mother would be most upset."

"She would," Regulus agreed. He didn't sound at all displeased about that fact. "And I think Hermione will be fine. We've seen her in action. Personally I'm rather anticipating it."

"Snacks then," Rabastan said. "Snacks and comfy chairs, and don't let me forget the pumpkin juice."

\\\/

By Friday the whole school knew that Hermione Black had challenged Fastius Avery to a duel. But by some miracle - or more likely the inner workings of Slytherin house - nobody had let it slip to the Professors. Hermione was well aware that bets were taking place and galleons were changing hands, particularly between the Slytherins.

Friday dawned clear and bright, and everywhere she went Hermione felt like people were shooting knowing looks at her. It made her irritable, and she skipped dinner to spend time in the library.

"You don't have to do this," Arabel coaxed.

"Yes she does," Alecto whispered fiercely. The dumpy girl had been a vocal advocate of the duel, much to Hermione's surprise.

"It's important to stand up for yourself," Alecto continued. "I wish I was as brave as you."

"You are brave, Alex," Arabel said soothingly, patting Alecto on the arm.

"I'm not," Alecto said, frowning. "I let people walk all over me."

"Not forever," Hermione said firmly. "Not forever Alecto."

\\\/

The quidditch pitch was cold in the February wind, but the skies were clear and bright like promised, and pale moonlight bathed the grass. Although Hermione had argued that she could go alone, her friends would not hear of it. So she was accompanied by Regulus and Rabastan, and Arabel and Alecto. Both boys had one of Hermione's arms each, and they all but marched her into the pitch. Hermione found it quite diverting that they appeared to have adopted her as their little sister, and subsequently become much more protective.

There were at least a couple of dozen onlookers, sitting in the stands and staring eagerly down at the pitch. Not as many as Hermione had feared, and most from Slytherin. Curiously enough, Sirius Black was sitting alone at one end of the stands, his arms folded defiantly

"Where is he," Rabastan growled, scanning the grounds.

"There," Regulus pointed.

Approaching from the opposite side of the pitch were three figures. Hermione sighed. She had almost hoped that Snape wouldn't be there. They had become friends, and although she didn't acknowledge it too publicly, it would be difficult watching him stand on the opposing side.

"Avery," Hermione said loudly as the three figures approached. "You actually showed up."

"I could say the same to you," Avery growled at Hermione. "Let's get on with it. Who's your second?"

"Rabastan," Hermione said. She hadn't asked him.

"Mines Snape," Avery grunted. Hermione sighed. _Naturally it would be him._

"Alright," Rabastan said, dropping Hermione's arm and moving between the two duellists. "Ten steps apart, usual rules apply. First to either concede, lose their wand or be incapacitated loses. No unforgivables."

"That's it?" Snape interrupted harshly. "No unforgivables? What about life altering curses?"

"No, we'll keep them in," Avery said with a nasty grin. Snape nodded acquiescence, but shot Hermione a worried look.

Avery and Hermione took up back to back positions, and then each carefully stepped ten steps away. They turned, and Hermione grinned when Avery didn't perform the requisite bow.

"Ready," Rabastan shouted. "Fight!"

Avery was fast, Hermione had to concede. He whipped his wand so fast it was a blur, and produced a flurry of quick hexes designed to be difficult to block. But she was faster.

Hermione raised a shield, confident that it could deflect all but unforgivables, and allowed it to take the hits while she put all her energy into conjuring a thick chain that twisted towards Avery's neck until -

In seconds Avery had vanished the chain, and sent a blood boiling curse at Hermione. She blocked it lazily, and sent back an entrail expelling curse. Her opponent smirked at her as he shielded, as though their opening strikes had been nothing more than exchanging polite formalities.

There was noise coming from the stands, the Slytherins cheering and shouting for both fighters. Hermione shut the noise out, and focussed on the routine exchange of spells while her mind worked. She wanted to put on a show - to make a point, to prove she was dangerous. Finish quickly but spectacularly, and seize some information while she was at it.

As Hermione duelled in a pattern that had become so familiar over the years - curse, duck, shield, return fire - she analysed Avery's movement's and began to detect a rhythm. Wizards had their weaknesses, and his was a tendency to layer his offensive spells in an attempt to overwhelm her, concealing that his shields were not as complex nor as strong as they might be.

It was an well thought out strategy, Hermione mused. She risked a glance towards the stands, and regretted it when a slicing curse caught her in the right arm.

"First blood, Black!" Avery crowed. "Careful you don't drop your wand."

His grin faltered when Hermione swapped to her left hand, and began casting with increasing viciousness. It was extremely difficult to be equally dextrous with the left and the right hand, particularly with delicate wand movements. Hermione barely took note of his alarm - she was beginning to build a plan.

Two yellow jets of light shot towards Hermione's chest, and she dropped to the ground to avoid them, before casting the strongest starburst charm she could. Even with her face pressed to the dirt she saw the blinding flash of light, but there wasn't a second to waste.

Hermione disillusioned herself, and then ran headlong towards the other wizard, freezing less than a few feet away from him as he regained his vision. Avery was roaring obscenities, and casting wildly.

"Where are you?" he shouted at the empty pitch, as Hermione held her breath and crept ever closer, until she was so close she could smell his aftershave, and had to hold her breath. This part depended on whether or not Avery could hold his nerve.

"Hiding like a coward, Black?"

"Not hiding," Hermione whispered into the shell of his ear, making him start with alarm as she dropped the concealment charm. "Sectumsempra!"

Avery screamed, his blond head whipping this way and that with disbelief as his wand dropped to the quidditch pitch. Along with all five of his fingers. Blood spurted from the stumps, and Hermione grabbed his head, forcing Avery to look at her. There was nothing but panic and agony in his eyes, and Hermione hoped any occlumency shields he might possess would shatter in the face of this pain.

She was right. It was beyond easy to tear into his mind, and she forced her way through with all the subtlety of a hippogriff. Memories assailed her, but she searched on for anything that pertained to Voldemort.

 _A dark room…"You may one day join me along with your father, young Avery…" a group of masked men smiling and nodding….Avery's father hanging up a mask and robes in his wardrobe, while Avery looked on with awe... Avery's mother beaming with pride as his father told tales of muggles, tortured and killed….Avery pleading to go too, and being told he was too young...Still too young...Until…_

 _Avery was sixteen….a birthday cake with candles, and his mother singing... Avery's father handing him a mask with great solemness, and then they disapparated together. A muggle house lit up for Christmas, a tree in the window and a child...Blonde, maybe seven or eight, playing with toys on the rug... Avery's pleasure. The muggle man screaming, his blood painting the halls….Avery's father bending the woman over the kitchen table and raping her..Avery wishing he could join in. The blonde child screaming, irritating...And Avery just wanted to make her shut up. Then he was pinning her to the carpet, and pulling up her dress, and forcing himself into…_

Hermione pulled from Avery's mind so fast she almost reeled. There was no way she could watch the rest of that memory. She felt sick to her stomach, but forced it all away into a tiny box to deal with later, because she had to _finish_ this.

Avery's screams had fallen into whimpering sobs, and she doubted he had even noticed her intrusion through his pain. In the seconds it had taken Hermione to search his mind, Rabastan and Snape had run across the pitch towards the pair.

"Hermione wins," Rabastan said with awe. "Avery, you're fucked mate."

"Hospital wing _now_ ," Snape said, levitating the bloody fingers off the grass and shooting Hermine an indecipherable look.

Avery howled as Mulciber wrapped a scarf tightly around his fingers to try and stop the blood loss, and shot Hermione a look of hate so murderous that it made her shudder. She knew now, for certain, what depravity Avery was capable of.

"Amazing!" Regulus exclaimed as he joined them, watching the losing group hobble off the pitch in an awkward triangle. "Genius move with the starburst Hermione, you almost blinded me though. Wish you'd warned us."

Hermione smiled as the students from the stands all rushed to join them, talking in excited voices. There was no time to dwell on what she had seen - now was the moment to take advantage of the success, and capitalise on what she could achieve with it. Certainly she would have more respect from the other students now.

But Avery would not go unpunished for what he had done. It was simply a matter of waiting.

\\\/

 **Sorry for the delay. An unpublished WIP has been keeping me away from this, (so has longs days at university and my rambunctious two year old son for that matter,) but recently this has started speaking to me again. I've a few chapters written up, and I hope the inspiration will keep flowing.**

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Cas**


	8. Murder is the Sincerest Form of Flattery

**Chapter eight**

\\\/

Hermione left more than a whole month before she acted. It wouldn't do to overplay her hand, act too quickly and give anybody cause for suspicion. After the duel everyone knew there was bad blood between her and Avery.

So she waited for a time when the duel as begun to fade out of peoples minds. Of course they would remember it, but it wasn't immediate and correlating. And in the mean time, she began to watch him.

Avery was a creature of habit. He attended his classes, studied in the library with his friends, and played chess in the common room. A couple of times a week Mulciber and Snape would accompany him on a trip to the kitchens, where they would stay for around half an hour before leaving. Once a week on a Sunday night Avery would walk up to the owlery with Mulciber, where they would post their letters. Snape never went, presumably because he never wrote home.

Hermione planned carefully. This had to go right. She began to go to the library every Sunday night, and at first her friends accompanied her.

"Hermione this is boring," Rabastan began to whine. "Exams are months away! Come back to the common room."

"You go," Hermione encouraged. "I just like studying. You don't have to come with me."

So, they didn't. Before long nobody questioned her evening trips alone.

She picked the first sunday of March, when a howling storm hit Hogwarts. The ceiling of the great hall was an angry mass of roiling clouds and crackling lightning, and the castle felt as though it was shaking under the torrent of rain washing over it. Nobody would hear a thing.

Hermione went to the library, laid out her books carefully, and then headed off to the shelves as though she was looking for more books. Then she disillusioned herself. She left the library and followed the corridors until she reached the bottom of the stairs that led to the owlery.

Then she waited.

"- and it was ridiculous for McGonagall to take points for that. Completely biased."

"I agree," Avery said, as he and Mulciber strode around the corner together. "Ridiculous."

"Imperio," Hermione whispered, pointing her wand at Mulciber.

Mulciber stopped short for a moment, frozen in place. His features slackened for a split second and Hermione grimaced, because it was so obvious, and why wasn't he -

"Oh damn, I forgot my letter," Mulciber said. Then - "It's still in the dormitory," after a moment. Hermione breathed again, and sagged against the wall. She was out of practice with the unforgivables.

"Do we need to go back?" Avery frowned.

"No no," Mulciber said blithely, waving his hand vaguely. "You go on, I'll run back now and then catch you at the top."

"Alright," Avery shrugged, and headed for the stairs. As soon as he was out of sight Hermione stunned Mulciber and pushed his body into an empty classroom, panting at the effort of hauling his bulk. Then she disillusioned him, and pulled a desk over his body.

Jogging now, Hermione headed up the steps after Avery. She could imperius him if she met him on the way down, but she didn't want to. It would be better if he was in his own mind.

Luck was on her side. When she reached the top of the stairs Avery had just waved off his bird, a handsome tawny owl. The rain was beating down and spraying through the open walls of the owlery, and lightening crackled overhead.

"Hello Avery," Hermione said calmly, raising her voice to be heard over the storm.

Avery spun around, reaching for his wand. But Hermione was faster than him.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Avery froze, stiff as a board. He began to topple over but was caught by the edge of the owlery wall. Hermione stalked towards him, locking her brown eyes with his fearful blue ones.

"Nice to have you here alone at last," Hermione said softly. "I've been waiting for this moment. You have no idea how I've been waiting for it."

Avery's eyes were wide and blinking furiously. Hermione had no doubt that if he could speak he would be screaming unforgivables and obscenities. As much as she wanted to enjoy the moment though, she didn't have time. But she wanted him to know why.

"I saw your memories," Hermione whispered, leaning close. "I saw that muggle family you killed. I saw what your father did to the mother, and I saw what you did to that little girl."

Hermione stepped back, and looked Avery directly in the eye.

"When you get to Hell, tell them they're going to need more room. There's a lot more coming where you've come from."

Then she pushed him off the tower, and leaned out, letting the rain pour over her, dripping down her face like tears. Hermione watched until Avery's body disappeared into the darkening night; until the moment she knew he had hit the ground.

Then she cast a drying charm, and headed to the library. By the time shouts began to echo through the castle, Hermione was immersed in her essays just like every other Sunday night.

\\\/

"Completely splattered, I hear."

"Had to identify him by his wand."

"His parents weren't allowed to see the body - I heard the casket is going to be magically sealed."

The whispers at the breakfast table the next morning were delivered in hushed, slightly horrified yet awestruck tones. It was always the same. People loved disaster when it wasn't happening to them.

Hermione sat in the centre of the Slytherin table with her friends, eating her breakfast without concern. She didn't feel guilty in the slightest about killing Avery. The man had been an animal; and dangerous, deranged animals needed to be put down. She had already saved many future lives by taking his.

"May I have your attention please Ladies and Gentleman?"

Professor Dumbledore stood at the staff table wearing robes of dark sombre blue, and spread his hands, looking sorrowful.

"Last night a terrible tragedy took place, which many of you already know. A student was murdered. Fastius Avery was pushed from the owlery by another person in this school. That same person used an unforgivable curse on Marcus Mulciber, who is recovering in the hospital wing. We have not yet apprehended the culprit."

The room erupted with whispers and murmurs, and people leaned in to discuss the issue with their friends. Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat, and the room fell silent again.

"Thank you. We will ask for all of your help and cooperation in assisting with the investigation, and I need to say that if anyone has any information about the incident, that you speak to your head of house immediately. Aurors will be in the castle until the matter is solved."

Hermione tuned the speech out after a moment. She had wiped her wand clean of spells that morning, and knew her occlumency was strong enough to misdirect anything that could be thrown at her. Nobody had seen her, nobody knew, nobody would catch her.

But as Hermione reached for a pitcher of milk to pour into her coffee, she noticed Snape sitting a little way down the table. He was alone, with Avery gone and Mulciber in the hospital wing. He looked grim, the lines at the corner of his mouth deepening as he gazed up at Dumbledore with dead eyes. Hermione felt guilty for the first time.

She didn't regret murdering Avery. But she did regret taking away one of the only friends that Severus Snape had.

\\\/

All of the Slytherin sixth years left Hogwarts on the Saturday to attend Avery's funeral. Hermione stayed behind, claiming that she hadn't know him for long enough to attend, and nobody could deny that there had been no love lost between the two.

When Rabastan and Regulus trickled reluctantly out of the common room dressed in their finest robes, Hermione stood up and gathered her books together, heading downstairs to the dormitories. But after dropping her books onto her bed, she locked and warded the door. It was a perfect chance to search the sixth year dormitories.

There was little of use in the bedside drawers of Lucinda and Evelyn, the other two sixth year girls. Hermione made sure to be thorough, and checked for signs of concealment in the wardrobe and the bed, but both girls came up clean.

Arabel was a different story. Hermione raised her eyebrows with surprise when she found the wicked collection of knives the pretty pureblood princess was keeping charmed to the underside of her bed, wrapped in soft leather. Hermione was sorely tempted to take one, but resisted. There were also a couple of books of a questionable nature that Hermine found in a hidden drawer of the bedside table, mostly petty curses for enemies and the like.

Alecto, as it turned out, kept a diary. Smiling victoriously, Hermione used a spell to replicate it until she had an identical copy to peruse later, and then returned the original to it's poor hiding place in the wardrobe.

When she was finished, Hermione unwarded the door and checked the corridor carefully before stepping through. She had high hopes that the sixth year boys might be hiding some more interesting secrets.

The boys dormitory certainly smelt more pungent than the girls. Hermione wrinkled her nose as she stepped through and caught sight of trunks spilling clothes, and an open bathroom door. Ron and Harry had been this bad, but for some reason she had thought the Slytherins might be different. She had been wrong.

"What're you hiding then," Hermione murmured to herself, turning to the first bed. From the neat lettering inside the stack of textbooks on the bedside table, she surmised it belonged to Regulus. Unfortunately it yielded very little in the way of promising articles, and the same story was true of almost every bed.

Hermione found herself grudgingly impressed as she scoured the dormitory. Snape, Mulciber, Regulus, Rabastan and Crouch. Five death eaters in training, and they had covered their tracks well. There wasn't so much as an incriminating note or dubious books of spells to be found. For all intents and purposes it was an entirely harmless dormitory occupied by upstanding members of Slytherin house. Hermione snorted and shook her head.

Idly she smoothed down Snape's bedcovers, and for a moment felt slightly sad. There wasn't a single item from home or anything that suggested her came from somewhere that wanted him. His bedside drawers were empty, and his trunk consisted of little more than neatly folded clothes and textbooks. Recognising his copy of advanced potion making, Hermione smiled and resisted the urge to look. She already knew what it would say. But there was nothing to point to the Dark Lord.

"Good job boys," she sighed, admitting defeat. She had to hope that Alecto's diary would yield better fruit, and keep an eye out for a chance to search the seventh year room whenever she could.

Perhaps over the Easter holidays she would have an opportunity if enough students left the castle.

\\\/

Hogwarts had almost reached the end of term, and the storms that had plagued early March had blown themselves out and given way to better weather. Hermione and her companions took advantage of the warmth of early Spring, to spend the last few afternoons of term wandering the grounds - once the aurors sent to investigate the death of Avery had left the castle without finding a culprit of course.

Professor Dumbledore professed his concern and dismay when nobody was caught, but even interviewing individual students hadn't yielded crop. Hermione had been interviewed, but her story of being in the library was confirmed by both her friends and other students who had seen her that night. The aurors had left Hogwarts in defeat, and slowly the rest of the school began to forget.

Slytherin house was restless however. Although outsiders wouldn't be able to tell, something integral had changed with the unsolved murder of Avery.

"He was one of the Dark Lords," Arabel murmured to Hermione one sunny afternoon as the small group of sixth years walked by the lake. "That's why they're so shocked. Nobody should have dared to touch him."

"He was planning to join?" Hermione asked, feigning ignorance.

Beside the pair, Rabastan snorted.

"Just because they didn't find a mark on his body doesn't mean there wasn't one on his soul. Avery was our Lord's man through and through."

Hermione noticed the inclusive phrase, and didn't reply for a few moments. She needed to let her companions find their own way to the answer without realising they had been led.

"I just can't see a motive," Regulus mused quietly. "Avery might have been about to leave and join his ranks, but so are at least a dozen of the seventh years."

"The Gryffindor's wouldn't do it," Arabel said with a frown. "Assassination would offend their sensibilities."

"And we come back to a lack of motive."

Hermione stretched deliberately, and stood up with a yawn. "Maybe Avery just made the wrong person angry," she said lightly. "Maybe the wrong person heard about something he'd done, and decided to take action."

"Revenge," Alecto said in a hushed voice.

"Or righteousness," Hermione corrected. She didn't enter the conversation again; more than enough seeds planted. Her companions were intelligent enough to find their own way to the truth - or a version of it.

\\\/

 **Wow - I was really surprised by the response to the last chapter, the story hadn't been updated in so long I didn't really expect anyone to remember it! And for those who might not have twigged yet, yes this is absolutely a load of indulgent, unlikely, overdramatic trope-abusing nonsense. I mean, have you seen some of the chapter titles? I'm not taking this one seriously, and that's what makes it fun to write.**

 **Several people mentioned Hermione's use of sectumsempra, so I'll just clear that up by saying I don't think Snape could even hear what spell she used, it may as well have been a severing spell.**

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Cas**


	9. Big Fights and Bigger Invites

**Chapter** **Nine**

\\\/

A few weeks before the Easter holidays began, Hermione passed Snape in the hallway, and pretended to stumble slightly, sending a first year Ravenclaw into a third year Slytherin. The Slytherin turned around furiously, and under the cover of the scuffle Hermione shoved a note into Snape's hand. She felt his fingers tighten around it, and moved away instantly.

"These first years really ought to be more careful," she said dryly to Arabel, who snorted in a most unladylike fashion.

The day passed slowly for Hermione, who was almost vibrating with excitement. When dinnertime finally arrived she made a great show of complaining about having a headache, before making her excuses and heading in the direction of the hospital wing. Once out of sight, she disillusioned herself and took the first staircase downstairs towards the dungeons.

It took Hermione more than two hours to ward an unused classroom in the Slytherin dungeons. Although the Room of Requirement would have been ideal, it had powers that she might one day need - and its existence was an secret advantage she wasn't ready to give up yet. Not even to Snape.

The classroom was one that Hermione had never seen used before, and it was small and dusty. A few cleaning charms took care of the grime and the cobwebs, and then she began work in earnest.

Hermione used her wand to carve runes around the doorway, and tapped them with her wand to active them. Just enough to make sure the door wouldn't be visible to anyone. Then she focused on the room as a whole. Taking a deep breath, and eyeing the stone walls, Hermione began to carve.

An hour later the room was undetectable, soundproof, blast proof and magic proof. It was several times larger than it had been, and resembled nothing so much as an enormous underground cavern, roughly hewn from stone and lit by several floating globes of light.

Hermione knew it was a little theatrical, but she even added the sound of dripping water.

Taking one last look around at the austere and barren cavern, Hermione exited the room and went to change her clothes, confident that nobody would be able to access her fighting chamber without nasty consequences. In the days when Snape was head of house, she would never have risked it – but Slughorn probably wouldn't even take points if he found out.

\\\/

Hermione met the young Snape at the appointed time in the corridor outside Slytherin. He looked uncomfortable and awkward leaning against the wall, and when he saw Hermione coming he stood straight immediately.

"Black."

"Snape," Hermione said, with a small smile. "Shall we go?"

"Where are we going?" Snape asked, catching up quickly as she set off down the corridor. "I was thinking about behind the greenhouses?"

"I've got somewhere better," Hermione promised.

Snape kept up, nearly outpacing Hermione with his longer stride as she led them a winding route through the dark corridors.

"Was all this cloak and dagger really necessary?" He asked, sounding slightly pained. "The note, the secrecy?"

"No, but it _was_ fun. Wait up a sec, we're here."

Snape stared as Hermione stopped in front of a blank stretch of wall, and pricked her finger with a quick hex. Smearing the blood against the wall, the wards momentarily deactivated and an iron handle appeared. Hermione seized the door handle, and gestured that Snape should enter the chamber first.

"That was blood magic," Snape said sharply as soon as the door closed behind him. "You can't do –"

Then his jaw dropped as he took in the enormous cavern.

"Where are we?"

"It's just a classroom I expanded," Hermione downplayed.

"Expanded with blood magic and mastery level warding," Snape said dryly, recovering himself. "I don't know why I'm even surprised anymore Black."

Hermione didn't answer, she just began to unbuttoned the outer layer of her robes, and hung them from a hook by the door. Snape watched her undress without seeming to comprehend and Hermione sighed.

"Are you going to fight in your full robes?"

"I might have to, one day."

Hermione nodded, acknowledging the point. "But today I'm just trying to get a feel for where things are at. It's easier without robes."

Snape shrugged, and stripped off his outer robes quickly, imitating Hermione and hanging his robes by the door.

When Snape was ready, the pair faced each other in the centre of the barren room. There was nothing to hide behind, no obstacles or hidden corners. Snape was going to have to rely on nothing but speed, and his arsenal of spells.

"Hit me with everything you've got," Hermione said without preamble. "No lethal or life-altering curses, but try and take me down. First incapacitated wins."

Snape said nothing, but adjusted his stance accordingly. Hermione appreciated his no nonsense approach.

"Fight!"

\\\/

An hour later, Snape was covered in dust and grime from the floor, and had several bruises and a nasty cut visible on his face. His nose was broken, and one eye was swelling.

"Again?" Hermione asked, standing ten paces away with two wands in her hand.

"No," Snape croaked. "I submit. I'm done for today."

Without a word, Hermione crossed the room and handed Snape his wand, trying to hide how impressed she was. The other Slytherin lacked finesse and speed, but made up for it with a phenomenal endurance and capacity to take painful hits. She had never seen anyone take a bone breaking curse to the face, and keep fighting.

Even now Snape made no move to heal himself, he simply got to his feet and waited for her verdict.

"You," Hermione said clearly, "are going to be a force to be reckoned with one day."

Snape stood a little straighter as Hermione continued.

"You're too slow, and you're not thinking on your feet at all. But you've got guts and a good spell repertoire. I can give you what you need to be unstoppable."

Hermione was breathing hard, excited by the sheer furious power she had felt as she clashed with Snape over and over again. Nothing she threw would break him, and he never gave up no matter how many times she disarmed him and started over again. He never asked to be healed or for a break, he just kept fighting.

"So you'll teach me?" Snape said nasally, through his broken nose. "Because I didn't recognise half of those spells, and I had the feeling you were only playing with me most of the time."

"I was," Hermione admitted. "But by this time in six months I won't be able to."

"Then we have a deal," Snape said, breathing out with relief. His shoulders slumped, and Hermione finally saw the pain reach his eyes.

"We have a deal," she confirmed more gently. "Now sit down and let me take care of those bruises. We might fight like enemies, but whatever we inflict we have to heal afterwards – remember that when you start landing hits on me."

"I don't need you to do it," Snape protested, shaking his head and flinching.

"I'm going to anyway," Hermione said sharply. "I'm not having you going back to the common room with a badly fixed nose."

"I've had it broken before," Snape said, as Hermione conjured a stone bench and made him sit down.

"That explains a lot," she muttered, eyeing the beak.

Snape made no protest as Hermione fixed his bruises, and she was as gentle as possible.

"This one I can't do with a charm," she said, looking at his black eye, shaking her head and pulling a jar of bruise paste from her bag. "Stay still."

Snape froze unnaturally under her touch, as Hermione spread the paste across his temple, and rubbed it beneath his eye as softly as she could with her thumb. She used her index finger to spread the bruise further into the hollow between his eye and his nose, and realised he was barely breathing.

"Are you alright?" she asked, worried. Her finger paused on his face.

"Yes," Snape said, pulling away abruptly. "I'm sure you've done enough now."

"Just the nose," Hermione said quickly. Then before Snape had a chance to move, she raised her wand and wordlessly performed a complicated wand motion.

There was an audible crunching.

Snape hissed between his teeth a long drawn out whine of agony, and clapped his hand to his face.

"Fuck!" He shouted. "What was that? That wasn't just a bone fixer!"

Hermione said nothing, and waited as Snape probed his face delicately. She saw the moment the comprehension dawned in his eyes.

"You fixed the old break as well," he said, staring at Hermione with shock, lowering his hand from his face.

Snape's nose was noticeably different. The hook in his nose that had made it appear beak-like and ugly was gone, and it lay straight as it must have looked before it was broken the first time.

"How old were you when it got broken?" Hermione asked softly.

"Eight." Snape said bitterly. "My mother tried to fix it, but...you saw how it looked."

Wordlessly Hermione vanished the blood from Snape's face, and then conjured a mirror. He took it reluctantly, and held it up to see. For half a second Hermione saw pure wonder on his face, and a gleam of tears. Then he controlled himself, and nodded formally.

"Thank you," he said to Hermione. "For the lesson, and for the healing."

The tender moment broken, both stood and began to walk towards their robes.

"Oh that wasn't a lesson," Hermione said, a wicked lilt to her voice. "That was just the assessment. Just you wait until the lessons start."

Snape smiled, and it was the most genuine expression she had ever seen on his face.

"I look forward to it."

\\\/

"What are your plans for the Easter holiday, Hermione?" Rabastan asked the next day as they were walking to Charms.

"I'm staying here," Hermione replied.

A look was exchanged between Rabastan and Regulus that Hermione almost missed as a crowd of first year Gryffindors pushed their way through the group, chattering loudly.

"What?" she asked, brushing past the younger students.

"They're so small," Rabastan grimaced, and then reached for his pocket.

"Father sent me a letter. He wants you to visit over Easter break."

Regulus held the door so that Hermione and the two girls could enter the charms classroom, but Hermione's heart had begun beating faster and she barely noticed.

"Why?"

The group slid behind desks; Rabastan taking the one beside Hermione that Alecto usually occupied. He produced a neatly folded sheet of parchment from his pocket, and unfolded it in a way that only showed the bottom few lines. Hermione would have found it suspicious if he hadn't been a Slytherin.

 _Finally, reports of a new daughter Black have reached certain ears, and we have been reliably informed by several sources that she may be of interest to certain significant persons. If it would be agreeable to the young Lady, these persons would be most pleased if she was to visit the Lestrange Manor during your Easter holiday to be presented. Please extend this offer with our strongest entreaties that we may have the pleasure of her company._

 _Your loving Father._

 _Deus Lestrange_

Hermione raised an eyebrow, and gave Rabastan a challenging look.

"Who is inviting me?" she asked boldly. "Your father, or the Dark Lord?"

" _Merlin,_ Black, you're worse than a Gryffindor sometimes!" Rabastan hissed, snatching back the parchment and looking around to see if anyone had heard. "Just tell the whole classroom."

"They can't hear anything," Hermione said, waving a hand dismissively. "Little charm."

Rabastan settled, and nodded. "Would it make a difference who it was?"

Hermione considered the point.

"Not really," she conceded. "Either way it's an offer that I just can't refuse."

\\\/

That evening Hermione pored through her blue notebook in search of any notes that covered the Lestrange's, but came up blank with the father. Rabastan and Rodolphus had, of course, been notorious.

Who was Deus Lestrange? When had he died? It troubled Hermione that she didn't know the answer, indeed it troubled her far more than thoughts of her upcoming meeting with Voldemort. With him, at least, she knew exactly how dangerous he was.

Alecto stumbled through the doorway and Hermione snapped the book closed.

"Sorry," the dumpy girl mumbled. "Some of the seventh years were about to start a game of 'hunt the blood traitor.' Mind if I hide out here?"

"You're not a blood traitor," Hermione said, surprised.

"No but Amycus uses that sort of thing as an excuse to corner me."

Hermione sighed, as the girl looked close to tears.

"You've got to stand up to him. I know he's your brother, but he shouldn't target you."

"It's fine," Alecto said immediately, heading for the bathroom. Hermione wanted to follow, but knew she needed to let it go. Her lessons with Snape had been such a distraction that she hadn't even opened Alecto's little black diary yet, and she made a note to do so as soon as possible.

\\\/

By the time the Easter holidays arrived Hermione was enjoying her evenings so much that she almost didn't want to leave. Fighting with Snape almost nightly had become one of the best parts of her new life, and one of the ones she had least expected to yield such fruit.

"I'll get you yet, Black," Snape shouted good naturedly as she disarmed him once again.

Hermione laughed, and tossed the wand back to the other Slytherin.

"You nearly had me there," she admitted. "That reducto to the ceiling was clever, but be careful because moves like that can take you out just as easily as your opponent."

Snape just grinned, and Hermione noticed that he did that a lot more these days - even in public. Fixing his nose properly seemed to have done more for his confidence than she could have ever imagined, as had his improved duelling skills.

"Once more before we finish up?"

Snape didn't reply, but immediately attacked with a ferocity Hermione hadn't needed to instill in him.

"Good!" she shouted, dodging a curse. "Don't give your opponent time to be on guard. Attack when they don't expect it. Might have even worked if it hadn't been me."

Snape just smiled fiercely, and poured more power into his spells.

By the time they finished there was a cloud of dust hanging in the cavern from misdirected spell fire. Hermione dissipated it with a wave of her wand, before patching up a couple of nasty cuts on Snape's arm.

"Not bad," she panted. "I'd give you a more than even chance if Potter and Black try anything again."

"They've not been around recently," Snape remarked with less acid than Hermione had expected. "Did you threaten them?"

Hermione debated whether or not to admit it, and decided against it. Snape was looking so cheerful that she didn't want to dent his male pride by telling the truth.

"No," she shrugged. "They must have found something better to do."

Snape hmmed, then changed the subject.

"I heard you're going to Rabastan's for Easter," he commented. "I might see you there."

"Oh? I wasn't aware you were particularly close to the Lestranges."

"We have mutual friends."

"I think I might have been invited just so I could meet these mutual friends."

"Be careful," Snape said suddenly, leaning forward and grabbing Hermione's hands. Taken by surprise, she didn't let go for a moment.

"I am careful."

Snape let his hands drop, and nodded slowly.

"Be more careful than usual then."

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Cas**


	10. Trust, and Intact Bollocks

**Chapter Ten**

\\\/

Lestrange Manor was not as large as Malfoy Manor, in Hermione's memory. But there was a certain kind of regal grandeur in the weighty stone walls, and it came close.

When the appointed day had arrived, Hermione had eschewed the offer of a portkey and had instead walked to Hogsmeade. Apparating from outside the Three Broomsticks had given her the chance to approach the Manor from outside, appearing on the gravel driveway in front of wrought iron gate and high walls. Now; Hermione waited outside as enormous wooden doors swung open.

"Good day. Is you new Missy Black?"

A slender, wrinkled house elf was standing on the doorstep, tilting its narrow head up at Hermione.

"I am."

"You is expected. Follow Gilly please. Does you have any luggage?"

"Only in my bag." Hermione gestured to her small beaded handbag.

"Very well. This way Missy Black."

Hermione stepped into the large hallway as the doors swung closed with an ominous noise behind her. Portraits lining the walls murmured as she followed the house elf, her heels clacking on the polished wooden floor.

Oh, how Hermione _hated_ the necessary evil of heels.

The house elf led her through a few doorways, before pausing in front of one and rapping on the doorframe with spindly knuckles.

"Master and young masters. Missy Black has arrived."

Hermione stepped into the room warily, all senses on full alert. She schooled her face into a pleasant smile.

"Lord Lestrange. It is an honour to meet you."

The man sitting behind a polished wooden desk looked older than she had expected from Rabastan's father. His hair contained a great deal of grey, and there were heavy bags under his eyes. But there was still sharpness in his face, and he sat tall, before rising to greet her.

"Miss Black. A pleasure to have you here."

Deus Lestrange took Hermione's hand formally, and brought it to his dry lips. His dark eyes stayed on her face, and she met his gaze steadily until he released her.

"Yes indeed. Welcome to our home Hermione."

The familiar voice made Hermione smile. There was a small hearth fire on the other side of the large study, and Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange were sitting in high backed leather armchairs, facing one another. Rabastan got to his feet swiftly and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you," Hermione said, nodding also at Rodolphus. "I was honoured to be invited."

Rabastan's eyes sparkled at the courtesies that Hermione eschewed so frequently at Hogwarts. She could already sense the teasing this would result in.

Deus Lestrange cleared his throat, and Hermione turned back to him.

"You are very welcome here, and during your stay I believe Rabastan will show you the delights of our grounds. We are also expecting a few of your Hogwarts companions, so you should not lack for entertainment. Later this week we expect a distinguished visitor, who is highly anticipating meeting you all."

Hermione nodded. "I am sure my visit will be most enjoyable, and I am grateful for your hospitality."

She fought the urge to curtsey.

Deus Lestrange turned back to his desk, an obvious dismissal. Rabastan quickly headed for the door, and held it for Hermione.

"Let me show you the grounds, Miss Black."

"Why Mr Lestrange I should be delighted."

\\\/

"That was fast," Hermione commented once she felt away from the eavesdropping portraits out in the garden.

"Father hates courtesies and small talk," Rabastan shrugged. "He just wanted to get it over and done with."

Hermione hummed, bending to touch some late daffodils peeping through the grass.

"Your brother was very quiet too."

"Youre not offended are you?" Rabastan grinned, tweaking Hermione's nose as she slapped at him. "Roddy hates people almost as much as Dad. Probably why he married Bella Black."

"Because she has a tendency to kill them before they can talk?"

It took a moment to realise that Rabastan was no longer walking beside her. Hermione turned, frowning, and found him several steps behind. His face was white.

"Hermione," he said hoarsely. "You can't just say stuff like that. What if someone heard?"

"I'd know," Hermione said with absolute certainty, and a trace of amusement.

"Please," Rabastan begged, catching up again. "Please promise me you won't say anything like that in front of the Dark Lord."

Hermione resumed humming, as she bent to examine some beautiful golden rose bushes. Rabastan whimpered.

\\\/

Severus Snape arrived just before dinner, and Hermione was surprised by the wave of pleasure she felt when she saw him. He smiled warmly at her when he was presented to the family, and made an excuse to speak to her as soon as possible.

"Good to see you Black."

"And you Snape. Is anyone else coming?"

"Your cousin Regulus Black, I believe."

"And Barty Crouch Junior," Rabastan added, clapping Snape on the shoulder as he caught up. "Come on, I'll show you your rooms so you can get ready for dinner."

"Not Arabel or Alecto?" Hermione asked as they climbed a high staircase.

"No." Rabastan hesitated, and then leaned in closer. "They're still under...observation."

Hermione absorbed this as they walked, considering the implications. Snape was similarly silent until they reached the guest wing.

"This is yours Hermione," Rabastan said gesturing at a door. "I'll send the elf to get you for dinner."

"See you soon."

The room was spacious and tastefully decorated in pale blue. Hermione performed a sweep with her wand, and detected several listening spells almost immediately. She didn't remove them, as that would alert the caster. It was probably standard guest room procedure in the Lestrange home.

After checking for any further bugs (there were several) and removing a charm from the bed that would send the sleeper into an almost coma-like state for the duration of the night (she shuddered to think what that one was about) Hermione unpacked her robes and dresses, and hung them in the large oak wardrobe.

It almost certainly had a false back, but she didn't have time to unpick the complex charms that moment.

Finally Hermione turned to the ensuite bathroom. The only charms present were those intended to beautify the user – and a slightly amusing charm on the mirror which would subtly suggest to the viewer that they looked better in green.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Slytherins, _honestly_.

She placed her personal toiletries by the sink, and turned to get ready when there was a pop.

"Missy Black, dinner will be served in ten minutes please. Miss should begin to dress now."

Hermione nodded at the house elf. "Thank you Gilly."

Twisting its ears in alarm at the thanks, the elf vanished immediately. Hermione sighed.

Reluctantly she returned to the wardrobe and pulled out the first dress that came to hand, and began the horribly laborious process of climbing into it and fastening all the buttons that the witches of this era seemed obsessed with. It was only when she visited the bathroom to double check that it wasn't completely hideous, that she realised it was green.

"What a lovely colour, my dear," the mirror said warmly.

Only a knock on the door saved Hermione from seven years of bad luck.

\\\/

Dinner with the Lestranges was a five course affair that took place in an enormous dining room with a mahogany table that stretched from one end to the other. Although there were only eight people dining, there had been clearly no question of using a more modest room.

Hermione paused in doorway, scanning the guests present at the table quickly. But within moments Rabastan saw her, and quickly rose to his feet.

"Hermione," he said warmly. "You look beautiful. Come and sit down."

Hermione would have rolled her eyes anywhere else, but the cold eyes of Deus Lestrange were fixed upon her and she didn't dare risk it.

"Why thank you Rabastan," she said as sincerely as she could. The little smirk that appeared on his face immediately proved she hadn't been successfull.

Hermione was seated between Snape and Rabastan, with Regulus Black sitting directly opposite her, but there were two seats still waiting to be filled.

"Roddy is picking up Bellatrix," Rabastan murmured, when he saw where she was looking.

"How lovely."

Snape gave a slight snort which he immediately covered with a cough. Hermione glanced at him with amusement, noticing that it was really surprising how handsome he looked with his nose finally healed. Without that single dominating feature, his remarkable dark eyes took centre stage, and his charcoal grey dress robes complimented his colouring.

The door banged, and Hermione looked up to see their final guests had arrived. Unconsciously she grasped her scarred forearm under the table, grateful for the long lace sleeves on the green dress.

"Ah, Bella!"

Deus stood from the table, looking more animated than Hermione had seen before, and leaned forward to embrace his young daughter-in-law with a genuine smile. Bellatrix Lestrange submitted with good grace, before turning to her seat near the head of the table.

"Apologies for the delay," Rodolphus said smoothly.

"It was unavoidable," Bellatrix interrupted coldly, without elaborating.

Hermione shivered, almost unable to tear her eyes away from the one witch who could truly strike fear into her heart. Bellatrix as a young woman was more beautiful than her wild, older self had suggested. She was wearing expensive corseted robes that resembled several in Hermione's closet, and so many diamonds that she shimmered under the light.

"I don't believe we have met," she managed to say calmly.

Regulus nodded, leaning forwards. "Aunt Bella, this is Hermione Black. A distant cousin of the family who recently transferred to Hogwarts. Hermione, Aunt Bella was a Black before her marriage."

"Another Black," Bellatrix said softly, leaning forward to look Hermione right in the eye. Hermione held still under the searching gaze which took in everything from her hair to her dress. Then Bellatrix sat back, and the moment was broken.

"Well I can't deny that the family could do with more women with such a good bloodline. Tell me, which branch of the family are you from?"

The relief was so great Hermione almost sighed, but caught herself just in time. Somehow, with the help of her occlumency shields and expensive clothes she had passed.

"It's like this..."

Hermione began to explain. As she spun out the whole story of her invented history Bellatrix nodded, and listened closely. The rest of the table slowly began to fall into conversation, and by the time the first course of the meal arrived, Hermione was breathing normally again.

Later that night after the guests had departed and all had retired for the night, Hermione finally found herself alone in her room again. She said a quick spell to undo her buttons and let the restricting green dress fall to the floor. The evening had been unusually enjoyable, once she was certain that no suspicions were levelled at her. Sitting between Rabastan and Snape had been just like a Hogwarts meal, but with better food.

However, no matter how much Hermione had enjoyed herself she couldn't let herself forget what she was here for.

 _No murder on your first visit_ , she told herself reluctantly as she climbed into bed. After all, the Dark Lord was coming.

\\\/

The next morning Hermione smashed the bathroom mirror into a thousand pieces, and then charmed her robes crimson. She blamed the little episode on stress.

It wasn't really her fault. She had been up early, using her fingers to comb through unruly strands of wet hair in front of the mirror when she realised she was wearing deep, forest green silk robes. She lost her temper.

"I have enough fucking enchantments in my life as it is," Hermione had muttered mutinously as shattered glass cascaded around her. Plucking a stray splinter of glass out of the pad of her thumb, she sucked on the drop of blood that appeared and then altered her robes to the same colour.

"You... look...lovely..."

The largest shard of mirror on the floor was still croaking compliments like a broken record, and Hermione laughed suddenly, aware of how ridiculous she would have looked to an outsider.

"Did you know that breaking a mirror is bad luck, but if you wear a piece of it, then the luck becomes good?"

The mirror didn't reply, but Hermione bent down and plucked up a smaller shard, aiming her wand at it. For a moment the glass shimmered, and then suddenly morphed into a silvery glass ball the size of a pea.

"Hmm. Not quite."

It took another moment to transfigure the silver plug from the bath into an elegant chain and setting, before Hermione used magic to fix the small glass bead in the middle.

"You're not quite diamonds, but you'll do. And I need all the luck I can get," she told her new necklace, and slipped it around her neck.

Without a second glance at the ruined bathroom, she left for breakfast. Whereupon Rabastan immediately asked:

"Is that _glass_ in your hair?"

"I look better in red," Hermione replied obtusely, and said no more on the matter.

\\\/

The days passed quickly, but the flurry of preparation as Lord Voldemort's visit grew ever closer was impossible to miss. Gilly the house elf was almost frantic as she scrubbed down every inch of the Manor, and even the portraits found themselves being soaped up and dusted.

All this Hermione observed as she strolled through the Manor every day, often in the company of either Rabastan, Regulus or Snape. Barty Crouch Junior kept his distance, which suited Hermione just fine. They had never particularly liked each other.

On the morning of the day that Voldemort was due to arrive however, all five Hogwarts students escaped the increasingly pressured confines of the Manor to wander in the warm gardens. It was a beautiful day, and the extensive beds of roses were almost vibrating with bees and butterflies.

When the five of them were so far away from the Manor that it would be impossible for anyone to see them, Rabastan gestured that they should sit on two benches, placed artfully beneath a cascade of tiny pink blossoms.

"Butterbeer?"

Hermione accepted the bottle from a small basket, and took a measured sip with pleasure. Rabastan stowed the basket, and then stood in front of the group.

"So, you all know why you're here."

Taken by surprise at the abrupt delivery, Hermione looked up at Rabastan.

"To meet the Dark Lord," she volunteered. "So he can get a good look at us and decide if we measure up to join his forces."

Rabastan paused, and his fists clenched for a moment.

"As Hermione so _elequently_ put, we have an honoured visitor arriving today. Our Lord is joining us for the meal, and he will be observing closely."

"You've met him before haven't you Rabbie?" Crouch interrupted.

"I have. And so has Severus."

"What's he like?"

The last question was asked breathlessly, and Hermione was reminded sharply of the older version of Barty Crouch; the man who had been willing to do absolutely anything to serve his master.

Rabastan hesitated.

"He is...Quite something. The most important thing to remember is not to try and hide anything from him, and please for the love of Merlin don't even think about answering back, or wearing red fucking robes."

The last comment broke the tension, and all of them burst out laughing.

"You hear that Black," Snape teased, nudging Hermione in the ribs. "Black, grey or green only."

Hermione sniffed haughtily, and didn't deign to reply.

"Anyway," Rabastan said after a moment. "Just...Don't try and hide anything from him, and you should be alright. Treat him like you would if the Minister of Magic was here."

"I'll treat him a damn sight better than I would that incompetent ninny," Snape scowled.

"Bagnold is a nightmare," Regulus agreed. "Completely threw out Aunt Cassie's appeal to re-instate muggle hunting. I mean, it's not even like she wanted to go after _mudbloods_ or half-bloods!"

"Anyway," Hermione said loudly. "Muggle hunting aside, is there anything else we need to know?"

Rabastan shrugged. "For everyone else? Not really. You? I'm terrified."

Hermione burst out laughing so hard she almost inhaled butterbeer - until she realised nobody else was.

"Terrified? Really?"

Snape shook his head. "You have no idea how controversial you are, do you Black?"

Hermione tilted her head, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Severus Snape I do declare I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

Snape groaned, and even Regulus shook his head.

"Hermione," Rabastan explained patiently. "You appeared out of nowhere, you are both terrifyingly and insanely powerful, you're pureblood, influential and spend time with us. But worst of all, you're in Slytherin yet you fight and shoot your mouth off like a bloody Gryffindor. Which can only lead any decent Slytherin to the conclusion that you're after something entirely different."

"The Dark Lord," Snape continued. "Is either going to really love you, or really, really hate you."

Hermione grinned, and clapped her hands slowly together three times.

"Took you long enough," she said brightly. "So now, how about a bit of trust?"

"Trust?"

"Indeed. You all need to trust that I can handle myself around the Dark Lord, the same way I can everywhere."

The silence hung for several long, awkward moments before Snape broke it.

"We can hardly do anything except trust you, when you could hex our bollocks off with one spell."

Rabastan, Regulus and even Barty Crouch mumbled in reluctant agreement.

"Wonderful," Hermione beamed. "I propose a toast. To trust!"

"And intact bollocks," Snape interjected.

All four young men raised their bottles of butterbeer, and Hermione joined them.

"To trust, and intact bollocks!"

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading**

 **Cas**


	11. Playing with Fire

**Chapter Eleven**

\\\/

As the discussion petered out, Hermione waited for the right moment to take her leave from the boys. During the next gap in the conversation she stood up, and yawned.

"I'm going inside now. I'm a woman, I need more time than you to get ready."

This was entirely true. Solitude could be a hard to gift to find in Lestrange manor, but Hermione had plans that she needed to put into action before Lord Voldemort arrived.

"We'll meet you in the hall," Rabastan said, nodding. "The elf will fetch you at the right time."

Hermione left the sunny, fragrant gardens behind and headed up from her room.

"Gilly?"

The small house elf appeared instantly, a duster still quivering in her hand.

"Missy Black is calling for Gilly?"

"Yes. I need to get ready for tonight, so could you make sure I'm not disturbed please?"

"Gilly will be making sure Miss!"

The house elf disappeared as quickly as she had arrived, no doubt eager to get on with the tasks that still remained. Meanwhile Hermione locked the door, and then took a deep breath and flexed her fingers.

She drew her wand and began to systematically disable every single monitoring charm, spell or bug that littered her bedroom. It was quick, efficient work to identify and dismantle each one, although Hermione almost missed an insidious little spell attached to her bedside lamp, which captured images only when lit.

"You might be dormant, but I'm not that stupid," Hermione said, turning her wand on the new threat.

It didn't take long, and within an hour Hermione was standing in a room that could not be monitored, at least for the duration of the evening. Then she prepared for the real work.

Stretching her cramped fingers out, Hermione withdrew her little blue book from her pocket. The page fell open where she had last been working on it, with her neat handwriting spelling out complex equations and formula. The heading though, was fairly explanatory.

 _Occlumency and Memory Alteration: Plan for Lestrange Manor and LV_

The plan was mostly theory, based on solid facts of magic and hypotheses of how the mind worked. Hermione was about 90% certain that it would work exactly the way she had devised. The other ten percent had been giving her sleepless nights.

The facts were simple though: Hermione could not face Voldemort, master legilimens, and expect every lie she had been constructing to hold in the face of his investigation. Her occlumency skills would hold up against a basic search, but this was too important to get wrong.

Hermione was going to alter her own memories for the duration of the evening. The unpredictable part was the extent this would affect her thinking; whether or not she would remember what had happened, why she had done it, and what her task was.

 _No other choice._

With the enchantments fixed in her mind, Hermione turned to the doorway and knelt down. She pulled her new glass beaded necklace over her head, and looked at it regretfully. Then she muttered a quick spell, and reduced the glass into a pile of dust.

Hermione sprinkled it across the doorway carefully. The glass dust had been brushing against her chest collecting skin cells, and the invisible particles containing her DNA were spread evenly.

Hermione began to layer spells. The glass and DNA would mean the ward she was building only affected her.

Then she began to build a cascade ward system, set to trigger when she returned to her room in the evening. The dust, almost invisible against the thick white carpet, shimmered for a moment and then faded. The ward should release the memory alterations.

Satisfied, Hermione sat cross legged on the four poster bed and drew the curtains around until she was sitting in privacy. The mission she was facing was the hardest she had undertaken since entering this new world - or even in the one she had left.

Somehow being in battle against Voldemort and his Death Eaters didn't seem as hard as having to look the man in the eye and convince him of her loyalty.

"If Severus Snape could do it in the last life, then I can do it in this one," Hermione muttered to herself.

She rechecked her notebook, and opened it on the bed in front of her so she wouldn't lose track of what she was doing. Every single memory she wanted to combine had been specifically listed.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione pressed her wand to her temple and began calling up every memory she had of Sirius Black, his mother's portrait, Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa Malfoy, Nymphadora Tonks, Regulus Black: Every image of a Black family member that Hermione had ever seen. It was the only plan that she could conceive of that might let her pull this off.

Carefully, Hermione pulled out the first silver strand of memory. She caught it in her fingers, and pulled out another. Then she began to weave, stretch, multiply and change.

\\\/

"Missy Black! You must hurry or you would be being late!"

"I'm coming Gilly," Hermione called from the bathroom.

The new mirror did not speak, and she could look at her reflection in peace. It was a hard thing to decide though - how did one choose what to wear to meet a Dark Lord, with a wardrobe as limited as hers was.

Professor Dumbledore had provided what he said he would for her - the wardrobe of an average Slytherin sixth year girl. But the school fund certainly did not stretch to cover fine robes, jewellery, or anything beyond the average. A few pretty dresses and robes were all that had been provided, and while these were fine for dining with the Lestranges, Hermione needed more if she was meeting the Dark Lord.

It was admittedly very, very tacky for a witch to transfigure or otherwise conjure up her clothing.

But Hermione had always been good at spells, and she was almost certain that nobody would realise her gown was made out of more than three quarters pure magic. Usually an attention to detail let down clothing transfiguration, but Hermione was excellent at detail.

The black dress was tight at the waist, and let out in layers of silk and gauzy swirls of fabric until it reached past Hermione's knees. The bodice was tight, but modestly cut to reach her throat, and covered her arms all the way to the wrist like a second skin. And every bit of visible stitching was in shining thread that looked like pure gold.

Hermione pulled her sleeves a little to check that her arms were completely hidden, and then charmed her nails a shimmery gold. The high neck and long sleeves concealed the fact that she simply had no jewellery to wear. Unlike clothes, it was easy to tell when diamonds had been conjured.

Hermione piled her hair into a tumbling knot high on her head, and used her wand to secure it. Then she took a good, long look at herself.

 _I look like bloody Bellatrix_ , Hermione thought, eyeing herself. From top to toes, she looked cold, beautiful and a little wild.

\\\/

Hermione marched down the stairs towards the dining room, feeling like she was heading to war.

"Hermione!"

Rabastan and Severus were heading towards the doors from the opposite direction, and both stopped suddenly when they saw her. Severus stared for a long moment.

"You look exquisite," Rabastan said sincerely, kissing her hand when she arrived.

"I see you managed to find some black," Severus added, the teasing in his voice not quite hiding his tension.

"I see you both did."

In fact the three of them might have been heading for a funeral, from the black robes the boys wore from head to foot.

"Come on," Rabastan said, gesturing to the doors. "Let's not be late."

Hermione took a deep breath, and nodded. Then she reached up and pulled her wand from her bun, letting her hair tumble down around her face. Several strand of memory that had been hidden beneath her wild curls suddenly were able to touch her skin, and fell into place. The magic Hermione had been weaving took effect, and she managed not to stumble.

"Let's go."

The result had been exactly what Hermione had hoped for. She knew who she was, where she was, and what she needed to do. But everything else was different.

The three teenagers entered the dining room, and followed Rabastan's lead. They took their places not in chairs, but standing beside the wall silently. Barty and Regulus were already there and waiting, but Deus Lestrange was missing.

"Where is your father?" Hermione asked Rabastan softly, glancing around the huge empty room.

"They're coming. In a just -"

The doors banged open with a smack, and two men hurried into the hall to hold them open. What followed was the closest thing to a church procession that Hermione had seen for many years.

Lord Voldemort entered at the head of the procession. Hermione gripped her wand tightly out of instinct, and couldn't stop herself from staring at the man.

Because he looked like a man. A cold, cruel man. Lord Voldemort was tall and even handsome in spite of his age, and he had dark hair with just a hint of grey at the temples. There was no kindness in his eyes though, and he swept into the hall and took his place at the head of the table without even looking at the teenagers lined up awkwardly to the side.

Deus Lestrange followed, wearing robes that were not quite Death Eater robes but were certainly a nod to it. He was followed by Rodolphus and Bellatrix, and another two couples. All of the men were wearing similar robes, with long sleeves that covered their arms. The women wore dresses, with gloves up to the elbows.

Hermione wondered if they didn't want to show their Dark Marks to uninitiated.

"Come on," Rabastan hissed, as the last woman sat down at the table.

The five teenagers took their seats at the end of the table, the furthest away from Lord Voldemort. The moment the last person sat down, bowls of gently steaming onion soup appeared on the table in front of them, and bottles of wine materialised.

"Wine?" Rabastan uncorked the nearest bottle, and began pouring it into Hermione glass.

"Thank you."

Hermione glanced around the table covertly. More than anything it reminded her of a court, with Lord Voldemort sitting at the head of the table surrounded by his courtiers.

Bellatrix Lestrange sat even closer than her father in law, at the right hand of Lord Voldemort. Her husband was beside her, and then Deus Lestrange.

"Who is that," Hermione murmured softly, looking at the other couple. The man looked to be at least middle aged; the pale, fearful looking woman with him could have been his daughter.

"That's Rellion Nott and his new wife," Regulus breathed in a whisper. "Beside them that's Abraxus and Stella Malfoy."

Hermione had recognised the platinum blonde locks that set the Malfoy's apart, and already guessed the third couple.

"Lucius' parents?"

"That's right."

The adults at the top of the table were speaking to each other about inconsequential things over their soup, and the buzz of their chatter was providing enough cover for the teenagers to have a quiet conversation. Barty Crouch was throwing sideways glances at Lord Voldemort, his eyes wide and covetous.

The man himself was saying very little. Lord Voldemort watched his followers lazily, drinking the wine but ignoring the food. Hermione got the impression that he was merely humouring them.

"My Lord, is the soup not to your liking?"

Bellatrix addressed Lord Voldemort in a reverent murmur, but all conversation died. Rodolphus was frozen, as though he half expected his wife to get cursed for asking.

Voldemort looked into his bowl for a long moment, and his lips twisted.

"All is well, Bella. I find myself with little appetite tonight. Now do tell me more about your new job; I am most eager to hear about our inroads into the Ministry."

The table breathed a collective sigh of relief, and conversation resumed.

By the time the main course was served Hermione was able to relax again. Severus was sitting opposite her, and they caught each others eye every so often. She wished they had been able to speak more that week; he was the closest thing she had to a confidante in this era.

"Are you not hungry?"

"Not really," Hermione told him, placing her fork back on the plate to avoid the urge to push her food around.

There were too many butterflies in her stomach to eat properly, and Hermione noticed that none of the other teenagers seemed to have managed much either - except for Rabastan, who would never curtail his eating habits for something as normal at the Dark Lord sitting at his table.

Gilly appeared quietly, and began levitating dishes away from the table. Hermione clenched her hands into fists under the table. Nothing had happened yet, but she knew it would. They had not been invited here to simply sit at the table and fill seats.

By the time tall champagne glasses filled with a delicate chocolate mousse appeared on the table, things had begun to grow quieter. Lord Voldemort was watching the teenagers intently, and conversation was faltering.

"So, Rabastan, how have you been finding your sixth year?"

Lord Voldemort finally spoke, and Hermione watched as Rabastan paled at being asked a direct question.

"I...it has been fine, my Lord. I am on track for excellent results."

Deus nodded approvingly, but Rabastan only breathed a sigh of relief when Lord Voldemort inclined his head, and moved to the next person.

"Bartemius Crouch Junior, I believe. Your father is quite the troublemaker for me at the ministry."

"I'm not my father!" Barty burst out, looking as though he would like very much to stand up and start proving it. When Lord Voldemort raised an eyebrow though, his bravery evaporated and his voice dropped to an obsequious mutter.

"I will do whatever it takes to stand against my father. I believe he is wrong, his ways are wrong, and I will never be like him."

" _Will_ you now."

Barty gulped, and didn't answer. Looking almost bored, Lord Voldemort took a measured sip of his coffee before turning to Severus. Hermione felt her heart clench when the eyes of the Dark Lord fell on her friend. If only she could have saved him from this life.

"Now you have even more of a problem with your father, don't you Severus Snape."

"He's a muggle," Severus said quietly. "I have no desire to refer to him as my father. As far as I am concerned I have no father."

"What of your mother?"

As Hermione watched, she realised that Lord Voldemort already knew the answer for the question. He was toying with the young hopefuls, the way a cat might play with a mouse.

"Pureblood, my Lord. She was a Prince."

 _He loves to feel their fear. It makes him feel powerful._

Just as the thought crossed Hermione's mind, Lord Voldemort turned his attention towards her and her eyes met his crimson gaze. Immediately her heart began to hammer, and she pulled up a weak facsimile of an occlumency shield, as though she wanted to hide her thoughts.

"Hermione Black. Such an _interesting_ development."

"Is it?"

Hermione kept her voice steady, but felt Rabastan flinch beside her at her answer.

"You're a mystery, Miss Hermione Black. I don't like mysteries."

Lord Voldemort stared intensely at Hermione, and she was almost certain he was probing her mind. She needed to entice him to look even further, and so she made a split second decision. She let her occlumency shields waver, and then drop momentarily, calling up the memory she wanted.

 _Avery was frozen, unable to move as his eyes flickered wildly over her face. The utter panic, the blind terror in them as Hermione pushed him off the Owlery tower. Watching him fall, until he hit the ground._

Hermione jerked, as though she had been stung, and tried to look shaken as she re-erected her occlumency shields. She dropped her eyes to the table, but not before she had seen a gleam of genuine surprise on Lord Voldemorts face.

"Miss Black you will join me in the study after the meal."

"Of course," Hermione murmured, hearing intakes of breath up and down the table. Regulus reached out and squeezed her knee where nobody could see, and she felt Severus press his foot against hers.

 _They're worried about me_.

Surprised, Hermione kept her head down, not daring to look up in case she gave anything away. Lord Voldemort resumed a conversation with Deus Lestrange, but for the rest of the meal every person around the table kept returning their eyes to her. Nobody spoke to her again.

\\\/

As Hermione stepped out of the bathroom where she had been gathering her composure, a hand shot out of the shadows and grabbed her wrist.

Instinctively Hermione drew her wand and had it to the throat of her assailant before she realised who she was aiming at.

"Severus! Don't do that to me!"

"Shh! Come over here."

Severus pulled Hermione out of the main hall and into a side corridor, where Rabastan and Regulus were also waiting. They looked uncharacteristically anxious.

"Hermione why did you provoke him?" Rabastan hissed. "After everything we said!"

"I hardly provoked him," Hermione said, touched and amused. "I only said two words. Where's Barty?"

"Said you deserved it if you cheek the Dark Lord," Regulus muttered.

"Anyway we don't have long. Father has taken the Dark Lord up to his study for a drink, but he'll be leaving in a few minutes so you can go in."

Rabastan paced the narrow corridor restlessly; a sharp comparison with Severus who stood still and stared at Hermione with open worry on his face.

"I'll be fine," Hermione forestalled them.

"I don't want him to torture you," Severus burst out.

"Just please apologise," Rabastan said, taking Hermione's hand in his and looking at her pleadingly. "If you apologise and pledge your loyalty he might not curse you. I've seen things here Hermione, I've seen what he can do."

Even Regulus was nodding, and Hermione was surprised by how genuinely worried the boys seemed to be. It hadn't occured to her that they might be so upset by the idea of anything happening to her.

Footsteps sounded outside the corridor, and the four held their breath as the tall figure of Deus Lestrange strode past without stopping.

"That's my cue," Hermione said softly, steeling herself. "Don't worry about me. I've got this under control."

"I bloody well hope so," Severus said, and squeezed her hand abruptly. "Good luck."

Regulus and Rabastan added their advice, and Hermione managed a tight smile as she left the corridor, and headed upstairs to the study where Lord Voldemort was waiting.

\\\/

 **This was a much longer chapter that included the meeting, but I had to cut it when it reached stratospheric proportions. It's virtually done though, so I'll update in a couple of days at the latest.**

 **Thanks for reading**

 **Cas**


	12. Hello Mr Devil

**Chapter Twelve**

\\\/

When Hermione stepped into Deus Lestrange's study, she was immediately confronted with the sight of Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord was sitting behind the enormous mahogany desk, tapping his fingers against the rim of a whiskey glass, as though contemplating whether to drink.

"Good evening," Hermione said quietly, closing the door behind her.

Lord Voldemort placed the glass of amber liquid on top of the papers in front of him.

"Sit down Miss Black."

Hermione moved stiffly forwards, her limbs feeling half frozen with nerves as she sank into the leather chair in front of the desk.

"So...you are the new Black girl."

Lord Voldemort steepled his fingers beneath his chin and simply observed her. Hermione noticed the gold ring with the black stone on his right hand, and made sure her eyes didn't linger there.

"Yes, I am."

"Yes _my Lord_."

"Forgive me. But you're not my Lord yet, are you sir?"

For a long moment Hermione was sure that she was going to pay for her insolence, as Lord Voldemort narrowed his eyes at her.

"No, I am not. But the Blacks have always been strong supporters of mine. I would be very interested to learn how a new daughter could appear out of, seemingly, thin air. Particularly one with a taste for murder."

"People appear out of thin air all the time," Hermione said softly. "This is war, after all. Sometimes they disappear too."

"You are walking a very dangerous line," Lord Voldemort hissed, and it took everything Hermione had not to shrink backwards.

"I apologise. I didn't realise until after the matter with Avery that he was one of yours."

Lord Voldemort eyed Hermione for a long moment.

"What would you have done if you had known?"

Hermione noted that Lord Voldemort appeared to have no interest in her motives, and looked at the dark wooden desk in front of him as she answered.

"I'm not sure."

The legilimency invasion would no doubt happen soon. Hermione focussed on walling up all concepts of who she really was, hiding them so far beneath torrents of falsified memories that she almost lost her grip on herself for a moment.

"You know who I am, don't you?"

Hermione looked up to find Lord Voldemort staring at her intently. Up close it was apparent that in spite of his handsome features, there was a slight blurring to them; a distortion that gave the first hints of the monster he would become.

"You are Lord Voldemort."

"That is true, but not what I was looking for Hermione Black. Answer me!

"You are the wizard who is going to change history," Hermione said quietly, speaking with absolute truth. "One way...or another."

The provocation was enough, and with a hiss of irritation, Lord Voldemort stretched out a pale, long-fingered hand across the desk and jerked Hermione's head up until he met her eyes. Then without warning, he entered her mind.

 _No incantation!_

Hermione was surprised, but erected hasty barriers as she had planned. Also as planned, they shattered almost immediately.

Although Hermione had deliberately made the barriers weak, the force and speed with which Lord Voldemort bypassed then startled her, and she knew there was a strong chance her best occlumency walls would not have lasted long against this man. She had made the right choice to protect herself differently.

 _Not bad Miss Black. But not good enough._

Then with all the finesse of a scrubbing brush, Voldemort began rifling through every single of of Hermione's memories. From the earliest days of her childhood, he took his time and studied them all.

Hermione felt every memory as he studied it, and she knew her plan had worked. Her memories were not very different, but certain things had changed. Like setting a virus loose in her head, Hermione had super-charged specific memories, and spelled them to spread until they infected everything.

 _Hermione's mother was directing an elf to prepare a meal in the kitchen. But when she turned around her gentle face had been changed, ever so slightly. It was like somebody had seamlessly bled Walburga Black's features into her._

 _The elf which looked like a combination of Dobby and Kreacher was moving around the kitchen, levitating dishes onto a table that looked quite like the one from Grimmauld place._

 _"Hurry up Hermione!"_

 _Six year old Hermione stumbled through the door._

 _"I'm here!"_

Hermione could feel Lord Voldemort's restlessness, the tedium of the memory not appealing to him and he shifted abruptly several years into the future.

 _Twelve year old Hermione was running through the park, being chased by a man that looked like her father, but had the long black hair and grey eyes of Sirius Black._

 _"Get back here young lady!"_

 _"No! I won't!"_

In the original memory, Hermione had been giggling. It was such an easy sound to turn into sobs, until she looked to be truly fleeing something fearful.

Memory by memory, Voldemort saw it all. Dazed, Hermione was barely aware that the memories had been altered anymore. This _was_ her childhood, these _were_ her parents. It was her conviction that allowed her to convince the legilimens in her mind.

Voldemort saw Hermione learning spells and potions, being tutored by her mother at home in a lab space. Mother and teenage daughter sat at the kitchen table and read together, books with titles like _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ and _Magick Most Evile._

 _"You have to be ready for this world," the mother said fiercely. "We cannot protect you forever."_

As Hermione became a teenager, they duelled ferociously. Memory after memory finished with Hermione's mother - who almost resembled Bellatrix Black - kneeling above her daughter holding a knife.

It was dangerous, scrambling memories like this. But there was no other way, when your mind was going to be scoured by a master legilimens. Nobody could construct an entire artificial childhood - the best Hermione could do was change and mix her existing memories to make them produce the impression she was looking for.

The impression that Hermione Black was somebody the Dark Lord just _had_ to have in his ranks.

 _Hermione was watching her parents through a crack in the kitchen door. The Black-Granger hybrids were reading a newspaper, and talking in low, urgent voices._

 _"She needs to be ready! Certain factions are growing even more powerful."_

The memory shifted, and fifteen year old Hermione was in a stone room, duelling her father.

Hermione and her father spun and danced as they cursed, and time after time Hermione was knocked to the ground or hexed unconcious, before being ennervated to start over again.

 _"Faster Hermione! Don't let yourself get taken out so easily!"_

 _"I'm trying!"_

The memories became more vicious over the months. Hermione grew stronger and faster, but still not enough to satisfy her parents.

 _"This world is dangerous. You need to be able to fight."_

 _"Please, let me rest!"_

 _"You can only rest when all your enemies are dead."_

 _The final night. Facing off against her mother and father at the same time. Both parents throwing spell after spell, until Hermione was bleeding profusely from cuts across her arms and face, and staggering from a shattered ankle._

 _"Stop! Please!"_

 _"In the real world, nobody will stop when you ask."_

 _Hermione's rage and fury, her betrayal boiling up inside her until she wanted to kill. Lashing out until both were unconscious._

 _This memory had been the most difficult to construct, because it was entirely fictitious. Hermione had done her best, but was still relieved when it felt every bit as authentic as the others._

 _The hard, blazing moment when she burst through the front door, and magically sealed it behind her. Setting the house alight, and watching as it burned to the ground with her parents inside._

 _Interesting, Miss Black, very interesting. Let's have the rest._

 _Coming to Hogwarts, lying to Albus Dumbledore and everybody else about how her parents had died. Joining Slytherin, meeting others, her amusement at their pitiful efforts at spells. The fight with Avery, and Hermione's fury at the lack of control and focus, the disgrace of his attack on the child._

 _Planning, plotting, acting carefully. Murdering Avery._

When Lord Voldemort had seen everything Hermione wanted him to see, he withdrew from her mind, panting slightly. Hermione slumped back into the chair in front of Deus Lestranges desk, and tried to look outraged.

"You invaded my mind!"

Lord Voldemort stared at her, his reddened eyes boring into her own.

"That's right Miss Black, I did. And it was a very interesting place. You also just lied to me. You were aware that the young Avery boy was one of my recruits."

"I was aware," Hermione said, looking down slightly.

"And yet you killed him."

"I'm not under any restriction not to kill him. I'm not one of yours."

Lord Voldemort laughed suddenly. "No restrictions except for the usual laws about murder of course. How would you feel if I released that memory to the Ministry."

"Please don't," Hermione said, making her voice whispery as though she was afraid. She was afraid, her heart pounding heavily. But not afraid of that particular revelation.

Lord Voldemort sat back in his chair and stared at Hermione for several long moments. It was as though she was a tool, and he was deciding whether or not she would be useful to him. The silence stretched on for so long that Hermione wondered if she should run for it, before he finally spoke again.

"That was a very interesting childhood. Tell me about your parents."

"You saw," Hermione said bitterly.

"In your own words."

"They were crazy," Hermione said, her lip curling. "For as long as I can remember they raised me to fight, to use magic as a weapon, and to value power more than anything else."

"Who were they?"

This was where the story could unravel, and so Hermione acted ignorant.

"I don't know. Isn't that ridiculous? They were just mother and father to me, I was Hermione Black, and they raised me in virtual isolation. I think they must have seen what happened with Grindelwald, and decided to make sure I was prepared."

Lord Voldemort eyed Hermione for several long minutes, tilting his head on one side as though he was considering her.

"What did they think they were protecting you from?"

"Anything that might be a threat. I don't think they followed any specific ideology, they were just paranoid."

"But you killed them."

"I was angry. I was in pain, and I thought they were going too far."

"And yet it was that childhood that made you...so capable."

Hermione shrugged. "They were efficient at what they did. But I wouldn't take it any longer."

"You have an extremely careless attitude towards human life."

"Don't you?"

For a long moment Hermione thought Lord Voldemort was going to curse her, but then he tilted back his head and laughed. The sight was so bizarre that she stared.

"I think you might be even more useful to me than Bellatrix."

Hermione lifted her head, to stare at the man incredulously. "What ?""

Lord Voldemort laughed again, but this time it was a cold and merciless sound.

"You heard."

"What are you talking about?"

Lord Voldemort nodded decisively, his cold eyes boring into Hermione.

"I could not let you live, outside of my ranks. You are too unpredictable, too likely to kill again."

"Would that be a problem?" Hermione dared, leaning forwards and resting her elbows on the desk.

"Hardly a problem. But such a waste. So young, and yet so powerful. There's a lot of anger in you, Miss Black."

 _Bucketloads_.

"A desire for power too. You want to make others fear you, make them fall before you. I can offer that."

"What are you saying?" Hermione asked, keeping her voice steady.

"I think you know what I am saying."

"Humour me."

Lord Voldemort laughed again, and picked up his whiskey glass. He tilted it towards his lips, and drained it in one swallow.

"So defiant! I almost don't want to curb it. Bella will enjoy working with you."

"What are you talking about?"

Lord Voldemort stood, and Hermione stood with him. He was tall, and towered over her as he walked around from behind the desk, and looked her up and down. In her tight black dress she felt exposed, but there was nothing lecherous about his gaze. It was like a man deciding which knife would work best for the particular meal he was cooking.

"I accept you, Miss Black. This summer I will summon you, and you will take my mark."

Hermione swallowed, feeling her mouth grow dry.

"Now, I suppose I must call you Lord."

"Yes, you must. And now you are one of mine, you are under my protection but also my orders. I will overlook Avery, but you will not kill again unless I order you to."

Hermione nodded, and Lord Voldemort stepped backwards, gesturing towards the door.

"You may leave. I will be in contact before the summer."

\\\/

Hermione left the room shakily, breathing deeply. Her mind was very confused, and the memories she had doctored were spinning through her head. She was aware that they were not real, but couldn't summon the truth. The compulsion to return to her room was so strong that she didn't fight it, but left her feet carry her up the stairs towards her bedroom.

There was nobody in the corridors, and Hermione followed her instincts until she finally reached the bedroom door. Then she stepped through, and without realising it, triggered the cascading ward she had set for herself.

A surge of magic rushed through Hermione like an electric charge, and she barely managed to shut the bedroom door behind her before falling to her knees. Every memory in her head was dividing, splitting, peeling apart and resticking in a different order. It took several minutes, but finally everything was back the way it was.

 _Hermione Granger. Dentist parents. Time traveller. Harry Potter. Tricking the Dark Lord._

With her mind reassembled in the right order, Hermione burst out laughing manically. The relief was overwhelming. She had done it, and there was very little chance she would have to submit to that kind of examination again. Her mind was safe. And she had succeeded.

 _I fooled Lord Voldemort._

Hermione laughed harder, almost gleeful with relief. Everything had worked, and she was in. The first step was complete.

Pulling out her blue notebook from her bag, Hermione opened it and flicked to the page she needed. Then, triumphantly, she added a tick against the page to indicate phase one had been successful.

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Cas**


	13. Dark Mark for Easter

**Chapter Thirteen**

 **\\\/**

"You _have_ to be joking!"

Rabastan stared at Hermione in awe.

"He asked for you to take the mark?"

Regulus seemed equally stunned, but it was nothing compared to the fury and jealousy that flashed across Barty Junior's face.

"He sure did," Hermione nodded.

The five teenagers were walking through the gardens again, the skies grim and overcast and the heady scent of wet earth permeating the air. It was colder than the day before, and Hermione was wearing a cloak over her robes. She brushed past some wet roses, the thorns catching on loose fabric.

"But what happened?" Rabastan pleaded, jogging until he was level with Hermione.

"I'd like to hear the answer to that too," Severus said drily.

They walked under a trailing flower archway; stopping in front of a large fountain with enormous marble birds. The water seemed to explode from beneath the wings of the birds, hanging for a moment in mid air before crashing into the basin of the fountain.

The four boys joined Hermione as she leaned against the damp stones that surrounded the pool, gazing into the water.

"During dinner he saw a memory in my mind that he wanted to learn more about. His solution to that was to lay my mind completely open and examine every memory in there. On the basis of that, and a little chat, he told me I would join."

"Just like that?" Rabastan said incredulously.

"Just like that."

Barty tossed his cloak over a nearby bench bitterly. "Nevermind that the Dark Lord _never_ invites anyone to join his ranks without months of observation and meetings first."

"Jealous, Barty?" Hermione asked, eying the skinny boy.

"I think he's made a mistake."

"Do you now?"

Barty looked emboldened when nobody visibly disagreed. "Yes. I think you fooled him somehow. You're good, but not _that_ good!"

"Show some more respect!" Rabastan objected, moving towards the pair. But before he had taken more than a step, Barty let out a high pitched shriek.

The huge marble birds that had been hovering in the middle of the fountain had moved, silently, and the first to reach Barty wrapped its stone wings around his body from behind. It could have been an embrace, if the pain on his face hadn't revealed the crushing grip.

"Help! Get it off me!"

Hermione, leaning against the fountain, turned her palms upwards to reveal empty hands.

"Who, me?"

"Get it off!"

Rabastan, Regulus and Severus looked alarmed, and stared between the two as if wondering which side they should take.

"Still think I don't deserve this?" Hermione asked casually, making the wings tighten.

"No! No...I swear," Barty gasped. "Please! You deserve it. You didn't fool him."

Hermione nodded, and flicked an idle hand at the bird. It pulled its wings back, and reluctantly floated back to its position in the fountain.

"Did you see what she just did to me?!" Barty shouted, as soon as he was freed. He jabbed viciously in Hermione's direction.

"She's psychotic! Why did none of you help me?!"

Rabastan and Regulus exchanged uneasy glances, before Regulus spoke.

"Mate, the Dark Lord himself just recruited her. You're crazier than my mother if you think it's a good idea to take any other side."

Barty's mouth hung open as he stared at his friends.

"So this is it now? You'll let her get away with anything, treat her like fucking royalty, at the expense of your oldest friends?"

He spat on the ground, and then spun on his heel.

"I'm done here."

\\\/

Barty Crouch left Lestrange Manor before the rest of the group had even returned from the gardens. After a few awkward moments, the mood lightened and Rabastan and Regulus began to ask more questions about the meeting.

Severus had been typically silent, but Hermione knew he only tended to speak his mind in private anyway.

The morning that everybody was due to leave dawned very quickly, and almost before she knew it Hermione was standing by the doorway, her beaded bag in hand as she said her goodbyes.

"Miss Black, it was an honour to welcome you to our home."

Deus Lestrange bowed low as he kissed Hermione's hand, and she marvelled at how his attitude had changed since Lord Voldemort had announced that she would be joining his ranks.

"Lord Lestrange, I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your wonderful hospitality," Hermione demurred.

"I'll see you back at Hogwarts in a week," Rabastan promised, embracing Hemione formally. Regulus nodded, and took her hand to kiss it.

"Safe travels."

Hermione and Severus were apparating back to Hogwarts together, since neither had a home to return to for the final week of the holiday.

"Shall we?" Hermione turned to her tall companion. Severus courteously offered his arm.

"Indeed. Thank you for your welcome, Lord Lestrange. Rabastan, Regs, I'll see you soon."

Without further ado, Hermione and Severus apparated away from the manor, landing on the path from Hogsmeade that lead up to the castle.

The moment Lestrange Manor vanished, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. Tension that she barely realised she had been carrying drained out of her body.

"Are you alright?" Severus asked, turning.

Hermione laughed.

"Yes! In fact I feel better than I have all week. I hate being watched all the time."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Tell me about it. I wasn't raised with a silver spoon up my arse, and sometimes trying to remember all the rules makes my head spin."

Hermione laughed again. The candid nature of the confession reminded how different this Snape was to the one she had known. On an impulse, she made a suggestion.

"Do you want to head into Hogsmeade before we go back? I could do with a trip to Honeydukes to stock up."

"Why not?"

Arm in arm, they headed further into the village of Hogsmeade. Severus had a spring in his step, and Hermione felt the same. Another whole week of holiday in the castle awaited, with neither Death Eaters nor Marauder's to bother them.

\\\/

The rest of the Easter holidays passed peaceably, in the way Hermione had been expecting. She and Severus fought, they trained, and they studied.

"You're surprisingly good company, you know," Hermione said, looking up from her books one afternoon in the Slytherin common room.

"Because I don't talk?"

"Because you don't talk nonsense."

"I'm flattered," Severus said drily, using his wand to erase a line of writing.

Hernione tilted her head again to hide her smile. After a moment she came to the question she had really been wanting to ask.

"Hogwarts doesn't have a duelling team, does it?"

Severus looked up with surprise. "No, not for years now."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask Slughorn about that."

"I might do just that," Hermione mused. "I might indeed."

"You're not thinking of starting one are you?" Severus asked. There was something in his voice that made Hermione look closer; he kept his dark hair in a sheet between them so she couldn't see his expression.

"The international duelling association usually arranges competitions between schools, and I know some of the other wizarding schools in Europe enter. Why not Hogwarts?"

Severus didn't say anything for a long moment. Then -

"And you'd be the one to train them, in the practice room I assume?"

It was the false note in Severus's voice that clued Hermione in to exactly what the problem was here.

"Of course not! That's a professors job. And the training room is an edge I'm certainly not willing to give up."

As Snape visibly relaxed, Hermione smiled wryly. Male pride still baffled her, although her years with Harry and Ron had at least taught her to recognise it when it appeared.

"I'd be interested in that," Severus said, sounding much more cheerful.

"I'll be sure to talk to Slughorn," Hermione agreed, before turning back to her books.

\\\/

On the last night of the Easter Holidays, Hermione and Severus celebrated their final night of freedom with butterbeer and a few pumpkin pasties in the common room, while they shared a copy of Potions Monthly that they had eagerly been awaiting.

"There, look!"

Severus jabbed his finger at the glossy cover, where the image of a large spider scuttled across the page.

"I knew it," Hermione cheered, taking a swig from the bottle. "They've _finally_ legalised acromantula venom."

"Not that anyone ever stopped using it," Severus said drily, turned the pages until he reached the article in question.

Hermione slid off her armchair and knelt by the low table to read the fine print.

"I see they left clause seven in effect," she said after a moment. "Trying to keep everybody happy."

"You think they should be allowed to harvest from _live_ acromantula?" Severus said, looking nauseated.

"I think if you stun them first there shouldn't be a problem. It's the idiots that kill them instead that give the whole practice a bad name."

"Kill first, stun later. What a concept," Severus murmured drily. Something in his tone unsettled Hermione and she looked at him sharply.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Severus turned the pages over to read an interview with a new Potions Master, but Hermione's sixth sense was tingling and she slapped her hand down on the page.

"Severus Snape you tell me what you're talking about this instant or I'll write to the potions guild and tell them you've been breaking their laws for years."

"You wouldn't," Severus said confidently, taking another sip of butterbeer. "You'd have to be much more sneaky about breaking them yourself after that, because you know I'd report you right back."

Hermione glared at her friend. "Stop dodging the subject and tell me what you know."

"Is that a guilty conscience I detect?" Severus drawled. But when Hermione folded her arms and shot him a killer stare, he subsided.

"It should be obvious. I know."

"You know _what?_ "

Severus sighed, and sat up slightly in the armchair. "You want me to spell it out? I know you're the one that killed Fastius."

Hermione's heart began to hammer as she contemplated obliviating the best real friend she had here. _Keep him talking._

"How do you know?"

Trying to keep her voice level, Hermione began reaching for her wand with slow, careful movements.

"It took me a while actually," Severus admitted. "But he was my friend, and I wasn't going to put up with Dumbledore's ridiculous attempt at an investigation. You were the only person who made sense."

"And why was that?"

"Because the only people who would have wanted him dead were too noble to do it. The Death Eaters were about to recruit him, so they wouldn't have done it. And Dumbledore and all of his entourage might have _wished_ we would all drop dead, but they weren't about to get their hands dirty."

Hermione's fingertips touched her wand. "And how did that conclusion lead you to me?"

Severus smiled wryly. "Because you're the only person who was, at that time, straddling both camps. And you had a motive."

"If it was me, not that I am confirming a thing, what do you think my motive could have been?"

"I wasn't naive about my friends, alright Hermione? I know what Fastius was capable of. I know he's done some pretty sick things in his time, and I also know how to tell when somebody is using legilimency. I saw you use it on him during the fight, I guessed what you might have seen."

Hermione stared at Severus Snape, and wondered how on earth she could have all her knowledge of the future, and still have underestimated this man.

"You couldn't have seen anything. You were on the other side of the bloody quidditch pitch!"

"I was watching Fastius," Severus said, shaking his head. "I saw his eyes flash white for a second, something they only do when somebody is entering their mind through direct eye to eye contact."

Hermione cursed, wondering how she could have forgotten that side effect. But then, who could have possibly imagined anybody paying that much close attention?

"He died weeks after that fight," she said flatly.

"I know. And it was very Slytherin of you to spend that long planning it, and making sure you had an alibi."

They had reached an impasse. Hermione grasped her wand, and prepared for the fact that a great deal of the common room would probably be destroyed if she didn't catch the element of surprise over Severus. She had taught him to duel too well.

"Alright. I did it," she admitted.

"I know."

Severus leaned back, his forehead creasing as he stared at the high ceiling. Once again Hermione was surprised by how striking he was, still in the prime of his youth. It would be the perfect moment to obliviate him, but something stilled her hand.

"Why haven't you turned me in?"

Severus took a long time to reply. His forehead furrowed, as though he was seriously considering his answer. When he eventually spoke the words were serious, and intense.

"Fastius was my friend, but that was because I was alone and I needed a leg up to get closer to the Dark Lord. When you killed him, I knew straight away that it was you. But I didn't turn you in because I thought he deserved it."

It was a painful confession, not an easy one. In spite of the quick explanation Hermione could see that Severus hadn't been as glib about his friendship with Avery as he might have wanted her to think.

"I saw him torturing and raping a child," Hermione said quietly. "That's why I did it. It wasn't a fantasy of his, it was a real memory. He did that."

Severus closed his eyes, his face growing drawn.

"I thought it might be something along those lines. But I never knew a child was involved. He used to boast sometimes about the things he and his father would do to muggles, but I was never sure how much was just exaggeration."

"I couldn't let him live," Hermione said simply. "He was going to do it again, and again. Over and over."

"I know. That's why I didn't tell anybody I knew it was you."

Hermione slowly let go of her wand, and breathed deeply. "I'm not sorry I killed him. But I am sorry that he was your friend, and he's gone."

"Some friends are better not to have," Severus said, shaking his head. "If I thought that was what serving the Dark Lord involved, I would never join. But Fastius was just sick in the head."

Hermione decided it probably wasn't the time to let Severus find out that was _exactly_ what serving the Dark Lord entailed. If he was left to his own devices he would come to the conclusion in his own time, and then he would be all the better for having made up his own mind.

"You've got me now," she said, picking up her butterbeer again. "And Rabastan, and Regulus. I know you have the same kind of shitty home life I had, but we don't have to be alone while we have each other."

"Yes," Severus said, shaking his head as if to get rid of the dark thoughts. "You're right."

When he reached for the potions magazine again there was a certain surprise in his eyes, as if he was seeing things afresh. Impulsively, Hermione reached out and squeezed his hand.

"I was alone before I came here too," she said truthfully. "But none of us are going to be alone now."

\\\/

 **Sorry it's been a while. My only excuse is I'm still single mum-ing my way through life, I've just hit my final year of university, and my son has just hit the (truly, truly) terrible toddler phase. Although to tell the truth, while I probably ought to be working nonstop, sometimes its total bliss to escape into fiction for a bit. Postgrad applications and my dissertation are due very soon, so I'll undoubtedly be updating this lots as I procrastinate!**

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Cas**


	14. Black is the New Black

**Chapter 14**

\\\/

"Hurry up! We're late for the welcome feast!"

"I don't hurry anywhere," Severus grumbled, reluctantly speeding up.

Hermione snorted, pulling him into a trot as they zigzagged through a mass of corridors, and burst through a side door into the Great Hall, where the returning students had congregated.

The feast was already underway, but after a moment they were spotted, and silence skittered across the room. Then a low murmur, barely audible, rose from the mass of students.

The Hufflepuff's seemed confused; the Ravenclaw's bored, and the red and gold table of Gryffindor's eyed Hermione with outright hostility. The Slytherin's though - they began whispering to each other, and shuffling up and down the bench like ripples spreading across a pool.

Hermione swept her gaze swiftly across the hall. It took a second, and then she saw what was happening.

By tacit, undiscussed agreement, Slytherin's were opening a gap at the very centre of the table, where only Lucius Malfoy and his cohorts usually sat. Lucius himself faced away, his back ramrod straight.

"What _is_ this?"

At the staff table, Dumbledore gazed impassively at the scene. Slughorn was watching with poorly disguised fright on his face.

"I think you need to sit there," Severus said.

"Don't you dare leave me alone."

Everyone in the room watched as Hermione, with forced nonchalance, slung her bag under the table right beneath the noses of the seventh years. She glanced at Severus, who gestured theatrically at the bench.

"After you."

"Should have guessed you'd enjoy this," Hermione muttered as they sat, bringing a rare smile to his face.

"Has to be some perks from hanging out with you."

Hermione elbowed him, then looked down the table. Rabastan and Regulus were sitting opposite Arabel and Alecto. She tilted her head questioningly at them, and with something that looked like relief, the four of them quickly scurried to sit beside and across from Hermione and Severus.

The silence still held. Lucius was eyeing the newcomers like he'd smelt something rancid. Hermione ignored them all, and pulled a large dish of spring greens towards herself.

"How have you been Arabel? Alecto? We missed you over the holidays, didn't we?"

"We were bereft," Rabastan said solemnly. Severus was overtaken by a sudden coughing fit.

Chatter began to resume around the table, but slowly.

"It was fine...my family went to a few Spring parties, but apparently none as interesting as yours," Arabel said.

"Interesting is one word for it."

"Got any others?"

The Slytherin's sitting close by had dropped any pretence that they weren't eavesdropping, and Hermione bit back a grin.

"Yeah. Successful."

"I so look forward to catching up later."

"Me too. And how was your holiday Alecto?"

"What? Oh, um, it was fine."

Hermione cast a look at the younger girl and didn't like what she saw.

"Just fine?"

"Um, yes."

Alecto's eyes were dull, and a glamour shimmered across her cheekbone. It wasn't obvious, but Hermione had spent half a war disguising herself and she knew where to look.

"What's on your face?"

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

Hermione wanted to push the point, especially since Amycus Carrow was only six seats away, but suppressed the urge.

"Oh, never mind. Thought I saw something, but it was just the light."

\\\/

"I can't fucking believe it!"

In the seventh year dormitory, Lucius Malfoy was seething. Hermione, invisible and pressed to the crack in the door, was hard pressed to keep herself from laughing out loud.

"Stupid bitch doesn't have any idea what she's got herself into," Amycus grunted.

"Malfoy's have presided over the centre of the Slytherin table for decades! The last time anybody else sat there, Father told me it was our Lord himself! How dare she!"

"They let her," Amycus said.

"Just because some letters have gone out, now they're acting like she's something special! Six months ago nobody knew she existed!"

Hermione swallowed another laugh. Ostensibly she was there to gather information on Slytherin house's reaction to the changes - but if she was being honest with herself, she had really just wanted to hear Malfoy spluttering.

"And another thing - did you see she had the half-blood with her? Sitting in the place that I ought to rightfully hold?"

"Stupid bitch," Amycus said, his conversation skills apparently not reaching much further.

"It's bad enough that our Lord seems to want him, let alone her playing along. I'm going to make them both fucking pay! I'm a Malfoy, does she even know what that means?"

Hermione silenced herself, and then let the laughter escape until her sides ached. Back in their schooldays she had longed to put Draco's nose out of joint, but hadn't managed it until their third year. It turned out pissing off another Malfoy was just as satisfying. It helped that she planned to whack him eventually.

When she had herself under control she dropped the charms, broke the wards on the dormitory door, and with a swirl of her robes, unceremoniously sauntered in.

"Black! What the fuck?"

Hermione smiled sweetly at Lucius, who had apparently been getting ready for bed. In a long, black silk nightshirt, with his blonde hair cascading over his shoulders, he wasn't particularly threatening.

"Just came to say hello. Since we're going to be _so_ close soon."

"What are you talking about?" Lucius said.

Amycus drew his wand, and Hermione smiled victoriously.

"You know, since we're going to have our _special ceremony_ at the same time this summer. We'll be practically brother and sister."

The look of pure rage on Lucius's face as she left the room could have fuelled Hermione's patronus if she had needed one at that moment.

"Go fuck yourself Black!"

"You look like a girl Lucius."

\\\/

As Hogwarts marched on into the summer term, there seemed hardly enough hours in the day for Hermione to do everything she needed to accomplish. Her little blue book was filling up with new observations, and changes to her plans that she had never expected.

 _Alecto's diary revealed nothing except that she is truly terrified of her brother, who has terrorised and abused her since childhood. Have revised plan to remove her, and will recruit instead. Plan A will be carried out in the next few weeks._

It perturbed Hermione to make changes. By this time of year she had already intended for Rabastan and Alecto to have followed Avery into the grave, but now found that she no longer wanted to kill them. The thought drifted into her mind that perhaps she could make them hers instead.

That thought would not go away.

In a different life, Rabastan Lestrange had once held a knife to her throat. He had stood in the Hogwarts great hall, and used the killing curse on the Creevey brothers; first Dennis, then Colin. He had howled with laughter as Bellatrix murdered Molly Weasley

So why couldn't she find that man inside him?

Alecto Carrow had, by sheer luck, cornered Professor Flitwick in his office during the third battle of Hogwarts; the one that razed it to the ground. Catching him unawares, she had disarmed and then petrified him. After that she had gratuitously used cutting curses until he had bled out onto his study carpet.

Where was that woman?

Hermione still grieved for dozens of deaths that had never taken place in this world. They were real to her, the cold, still corpses that appeared in her dreams. Harry lying spread-eagled, his chest blasted open. Ron, the only man she had ever expected to love, slumped on the stone floor with the back of his head blown off, decorating the corridor in ribbons of red. Good people, but not vicious enough for the savagery that war demanded of them.

Hermione knew that brutality was buried somewhere inside her new companions, and that they were better suited to the cruelty of war than her old friends had ever been. She wanted to draw their darker nature out, and to harness it in a different direction. A direction that wouldn't finish with everybody Hermione had ever loved rotting in shallow graves.

This time it wasn't going to take two decades to end the war.

\\\/

The rumblings of house dynamics continued to shift even after the obvious display at the beginning of term, as Slytherin after Slytherin received word from home. _Do not cross Hermione Black. The Dark Lord chose her._

Some, like Rabastan and Arabel, found it hilarious. Others like Lucius and Barty Crouch seemed to take it as a personal affront. Most showed a wary respect, and a few, indifference. The changes mostly showed in the small details; Hermione would find her drinks poured, the most comfortable seat by the fire left available, little attempts to curry favour.

It wasn't just the Slytherin's that noticed the difference. Someone else went to extreme lengths to manufacture a meeting, for which Hermione couldn't blame them. The fireball though - that had been overkill.

"Aquamenti, remember," Hermione tutored.

Alecto nodded, and tried again. The charms classroom ceiling was dripping with over-enthusiastic attempts, and Professor Flitwick had taken shelter under an umbrella.

In between correcting the other witch's pronunciation, Hermione was experimenting with what shapes she could form with the conjured water in mid air. The translucent liquid hovered, becoming a serpent, then a witches hat, then a cauldron.

"Show off," someone coughed.

Hermione turned to see James Potter tilting his chair back on two legs. Behind him, Lily leaned forwards and firmly shoved the chair down.

"Aw Evans don't be like that."

"Face it Potter, you're useless with or without your legs on the ground," Hermione said, flicking water at him.

Lily made a disapproving noise, and Hermione had to conceal her fond smile. The redhead was a spitfire, and she had yet to see any sign of her romance with James taking root, but was watching with great anticipation. She couldn't wait to see baby Harry.

"Hermione am I doing it right?" Alecto asked.

Hermione watched, and the other witch cast the spell but only succeeded in conjuring a few droplets of water out of her wand.

"Almost. Just...flick a bit harder."

Rabastan snorted. Hermione rolled her eyes and dropped the charms she had been maintaining. The liquid bust of Salazar Slytherin she had been carefully constructing turned to formless water, and splashed straight over Rabastan's head, drenching him and his notes.

"Watch it!" Regulus said, as water slopped onto his desk, and Rabastan spluttered incoherently.

"Oops. Sorry Regs. Wasn't aiming for you."

Rabastan snatched Hermione's wand, shaking his wet hair like a dog, before casting a drying charm.

"You don't deserve your wand privileges today Hermione."

"Oh give it back you little -"

There was a crash, and students lunged out of the way as desks toppled to the ground. Hermione spun around just in time to see an orange fireball heading straight for her face. Her wand wasn't in her hand where it should have been, and instinctively she shook her left sleeve, waiting for her reserve wand to drop into her hand. A second later she remembered she didn't have a reserve wand anymore.

As the class watched in horror, Hermione wandlessly jerked a chair up into the air, right into the path of the fireball. The chair exploded, and she covered her face as splinters flew everywhere, casting a containment spell before debris could hit her friends.

"Who the bloody hell did that?" Hermione snarled, lowering her hands, which had taken the worst of the burns.

"I'm so sorry."

Peter Pettigrew, trembling at the very front of the room, slowly raised his hand. Professor Flitwick descended on Hermione, using his wand to sweep a diagnostic across her face quickly. The damage was mostly from flying splinters.

"Pettigrew you shit!"

"Now Miss Black, I'm sure it was an accident."

"It was Professor. He got me too."

Sirius Black held up his arm, where the robe was singed and the skin blackened. Professor Flitwick looked horrified.

"We are conjuring water, not fire Mr Pettigrew! We will discuss the finer details of this in detention. Mr Black, Miss Black, I believe you should both visit the hospital wing."

Scowling, Hermione snatched her wand back from Rabastan, ignoring the concerned looks from her friends and stormed out of the room. She was angry that in a moment of light-heartedness she had allowed her wand to leave her side, with results that could have been catastrophic.

"Hey Black, wait up!" Sirius called down the corridor after her.

Hermione stopped for a moment, cast a quick series of muffling spells across the corridor, and then spun and slapped Sirius across the face.

"For Merlin's sake, you couldn't think of any other way to do it, you stupid mutt?"

Sirius stilled, his hand half-raised to his face.

"What are you talking about?"

Hermione pulled out a pocket mirror and checked her reflection. Blood trickled down her face from a cut below the eye, and her hair was badly singed.

"If you wanted to talk to me you only had to ask."

Sirius looked gobsmacked.

"I didn't…"

"Don't bother Sirius, you're a shit liar."

Wordlessly Sirius gaped, his eyes goggling like a fish. Then he snapped his jaw shut, and stepped forward with fists clenched.

"That's what I'm here for. I want to know how you know these things, and who you are, Black."

Hermione had been waiting for one of the Marauders to approach, but with sharp bits of wood embedded in her hands, didn't feel inclined to play nicely.

"What are you talking about? I'm just another twig at the end of a long Black family branch."

"Don't play fucking word games with me. This isn't a joke," Sirius said, moving forward. The air between them was almost crackling with tension.

"Why do you care so much? I don't have anything to do with you."

"In case it somehow escaped your notice, I go home every Summer to a house filled with your favourite kind of people," Sirius said.

"I don't know what you -"

"Death Eaters, Black. Don't act like I'm fucking stupid. I know what my brother's trying to join."

There didn't seem to be any possible response to that.

"What do you want from me?"

"I want to know who you are, where you came from, and what side you're on."

"I think it should be pretty obvious what side I'm on."

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care."

The gloves were coming off. Sirius rounded on Hermione, only to find her wand between his eyes. Then she felt his wand digging into her ribs.

"Not as fast as you think you are, Hermione Black. I'll tell you what I want - if you tell me what you're really up to."

Up close, Sirius was even more good-looking than from a distance. He smelt faintly of an intoxicating aftershave, and the glint in his dark eyes was magnetic. Hermione waited a split second, and then non-verbally summoned his wand into her hand. In half a minute less than no time, Sirius was staring down two wands.

"You bitch!"

"Is that how you really talk to family?"

Sirius hesitated, and something almost like pain crossed his face. That intrigued Hermione enough that she let the wands drop. About an inch. Sirius sighed, and spoke more quietly.

"Look...what I wanted to talk to you about….it's Regulus. This shit he's getting mixed up in - he doesn't understand what it's really like. He hears the deaths read out every morning, but he doesn't understand what it means. What he's walking into."

"And you do?"

"Can you put those fucking wands down please?"

Reluctantly Hermione lowered her arm.

"Thanks."

"Mm."

Hermione eyed Sirius, a part of her wishing she could tell him the truth. Sometimes when she dreamed, in spite of all the horrors her subconscious had to choose from, she still saw his body sailing through the veil of death, his eyes wide and astonished.

"You won't tell Regulus about this conversation," Sirius said.

"Please, I'm a Slytherin."

"Don't say that like it's a good thing."

Hermione was startled into a laugh. She had missed her Gryffindor boys dearly, and in Sirius she could almost see their ghosts.

"It's not a terrible thing."

"Speak for yourself."

Both laughed, and for a moment there was almost kinship between them.

"Look, Sirius, I don't understand why you think I have any influence over what your little brother says or does, or why you brought this to me. I don't know if it's escaped your notice, but I am on the _other_ side of this."

Sirius abruptly turned serious.

"No, you're not. That's why I'm asking - I had a letter from home. I know what you're going to do this Summer, but I also know you're not really with them."

Immediately there was a wand in Sirius's face again.

"Explain that comment and make it snappy."

Hermione stalked closed to Sirius, who gulped.

"We've got ways of watching things in this castle. I know it was you that killed that Slytherin before Christmas. If you watch out for Regulus, I won't tell Dumbledore - or the aurors."

 _Obliviate_.

Hermione's mouth opened, and her lips formed the O of the first syllable. At that very instant the bell for the end of classes rang. Doors began to slam open up and down the corridor, and students streamed out, chattering and shouting.

"Pads, you're still here!"

James Potter came up behind them, clapped Sirius on the shoulder, but for a moment neither he nor Hermione moved. Then she dropped her wand to her side, and handed Sirius his one back.

"Think about it," he said quietly.

"We'll speak about this later," she told him, threat implicit in her voice.

Sirius stared at her, and Hermione was certain he knew what spell she had been about to cast on him. Then without a word, he shrugged off James's hand, and picked up his bag. The four Marauders sloped off down the corridor, Peter Pettigrew stumbling at the back.

Unable to resist, Hermione sent a quick tripping spell at him, and had the pleasure of watching the fat boy flail his arms and fall, crashing into a suit of armour with a wail. Then she was interrupted.

"Erm, hello, it's Black, right?"

Hermione turned back, surprised to see that it was Lily speaking to her.

"Yes. And you're Lily Evans."

Face to face for the first time with those green eyes, dear God it hurt to look at them. No wonder Severus couldn't bear the sight of Harry. Hermione hungrily searched Lily's features for more evidence of her friend.

"Yeah, that's right. I just wanted to say...whatever Sirius said, don't take it personally. I know he can be aggressive, but he's had a bad year."

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"Haven't we all."

Lily frowned, and Hermione stared at the eyelids that crinkled at the corners in just the same way as Harry's.

"It's just, what they say about you…"

"What do they say about me, Lily?"

"They say that you hurt people who cross you."

Lily spoke fast; defensively. She tucked a lock of red hair behind her ear and folded her arms. Even the mannerisms were similar, and Hermione smiled, in spite of herself.

"Sirius is a big boy. I'm sure he'll be alright."

"Just...don't hurt him," Lily said fiercely. Hermione conceded with a nod. Pain wasn't what she had in mind.

"Come on Lily, we're going to be late."

A small, mousey girl pulled Lily Evans from Hermione. As soon as the Gryffindor's were gone, as if by magic, her friends appeared behind them.

"What was that about?" Severus asked, pulling out his wand and healing the cut on Hermione's cheek without asking. He took her damaged hands in his larger ones, and examined them, before carefully spelling out the splinters of wood.

Hermione winced, and shook her head.

"Lily wanted to warn me off Sirius. Apparently she thinks I might hurt him."

"Are you going to?" Rabastan asked eagerly.

Regulus coughed loudly, and Rabastan subsided. Severus sealed Hermione's cuts, and dropped her hands. The group headed down the corridor, but by the time they reached the end the Marauders were out of sight.

"So it's 'Lily', is it?" Rabastan said after a moment.

"What about her?"

"You and she looked very intense...and on first-name terms already."

Rabastan waggled his eyebrows.

"Maybe this is why you haven't succumbed to my charms yet."

Severus scowled fiercely, and Hermione burst out laughing.

"Please, Rabastan. If I played for the other team Arabel would be my first pick."

"Better luck next time Rabs'," Arabel said, linking her arm with Hermione's and winking. Alecto looked downcast.

"You're second pick," Hermione assured her.

The group headed into their next class, exchanging barbs and jokes, Hermione at the very centre. It was already hard to remember a time when she'd wanted to kill these people.

\\\/

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Somehow over Christmas I've written three chapters, so expect updates in the next few weeks when I've edited them. There's murder and romance brewing. Happy New Year everyone!**

 **Cas**


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